


Two Sides

by Its_Lawrence, serevelaa



Category: Monster High
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Background Relationship, Deaths, Deviates From Canon, Drug Abuse, Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Feels, First Time, Firsts, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Original Male Character - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Romance, Sexual Content, Suicide Attempt, Trauma, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:53:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 22,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25958587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Its_Lawrence/pseuds/Its_Lawrence, https://archiveofourown.org/users/serevelaa/pseuds/serevelaa
Summary: As they gathered their things and waited for the bell, Holt looked around the room. He could tell people were uncomfortable. They looked as if they wanted to apologize, but weren’t sure if he agreed with his father’s actions or not, so they stayed as far away as possible.“God damn it. Everyone acts like their parents were saints!” Holt rolled his eyes. “Entitled assholes...”
Relationships: Cleo de Nile/Deuce Gorgon, Heath Burns/Amanita Nightshade, Holt Hyde/Catrine Demew, Holt Hyde/Frankie Stein, Jackson Jekyll/Deuce Gorgon, Jackson Jekyll/Frankie Stein, Lagoona Blue/Gillington "Gil" Webber
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	1. Shapeshifter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson is being pushed around by Manny, inviting Holt, his alter ego, into the mix. Later that day, Deuce tries to convince Jack to join the casketball team, will he be accepted?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first shot at fanfiction. It’s… a lot. It’s a super dark AU with lots of blood, adult language, and mature themes. Think High School, but they all went through a Red Room. Be warned that this is not child-friendly and you may not like what happens to some of your favorite characters. Some information will be delivered differently from the series’ actual timeline.
> 
> Characters will also have political biases, religious beliefs, and opinions of their own, and anything they say does not necessarily indicate my own affiliations. This takes place during the main ghouls’ senior year — younger students like Howleen and Twyla are juniors. This fic is written in third person omniscient, but focuses around Holt Hyde and Jackson Jekyll. 
> 
> Anyways, please be nice! Leave kudos, comments, and reviews if you like it! Thanks for reading this and I hope you enjoy the labor of my love. Special thanks to fellow user and my best friend sarasland30 for editing, reviewing, and giving feedback during early stages.

**Jackson** placed his palm to his face and sighed as Manny Taur walked into the Coffin Room during Study Howl. Unlike Manny, Jackson was studying for a clawculus test that was coming up in fifth period. Manny had bullied Jackson relentlessly during the course of his time at Monster High, belittling him with cruel human jokes and stealing his notes fresh off the printers. Frankly, Jackson was tired.

Feeling bold, Jackson’s brows knit together and he turned to Manny; he was a tail-length away and had already opened his foul mouth in a smirk. “I don’t have time for your sick jokes against normies, Manny. They’re not funny, and neither are you. Why don’t you just go away?”

Apparently that was the wrong move. Manny lifted Jack up by his shirt collar and Jackson felt his eyes widen like dinner plates.

“Listen, four eyes. You can’t tell me what to  _ do-o-o! _ ” he cowed, dropping Jackson rudely. “You’re only here because of your other personality.” He snarled, but then shifted his face into a grin and added, “Which is funny considering the crimes he had to commit just to be here.”

A radio, which had just conveniently been disposed of on a table next to the two boys by a ghostly white hand, turned on. Casta and the Spells bursted loudly on the radio as Jackson squirmed on the floor. __

_ Great. Thanks, Spectra. _

He rolled his eyes back before he saw the infamous gossiper disappear, then everything in sight became a blur for him.

Jackson, in pain, curved his back in an arc.  _ Please don’t do anything dumb…  _ he thought. Colors swirled and Jackson’s vision went black.

After a flare of light, a blue manster replaced the normie boy. Holt let out a victory cry, finally freed.

Of course, everyone knew Jackson was the son of the famous scientist, Dr. Jekyll. Jekyll had tragically died after being overwhelmed by Mr. Hyde, an alter ego that was trying to take control of his body, brutally murdering everyone in Britain while he was at it. The boys had been oblivious to this their first year, but Jackson had to be here for some reason, right? As soon as the news dropped, the Jekyll-Hyde brothers were being talked about in every inch of the school. Still, it was weird to have all the eyes on him as soon as either of the boys resurfaced.

Holt was up on his feet in a moment, eyes dazzling with emotion. This was his job as of late: berating Manny every time he woke up with the brute’s nose ring in his face. “Lay one more finger on Jackson, and it’ll be those horns of yours off your fucking skull!” 

Jackson hated when he swore. Holt grinned.

Manny’s mouth shut quickly. He skidded away with a huff, knowing if he denied that what he said was true, he would be flying through the roof in a matter of seconds. Sighing, Holt placed his finger on the radio button to turn off the loud noise.  _ And goodbye, Monster High! _ he thought. A blaze of light followed the summoning of Jackson to appear where Holt was previously standing. Their deal was equal time, and unfortunately, today was Jackson’s time outside. Jack blinked feverishly, seeing Manny gone, and made a mental note to thank Holt later.

  
  


The hallway was long and filled with dead tired students, yearning to go home after a long day of switching classes. Deuce was no exception to this rule, and Jackson quickly spotted his snake-filled scalp among the crowd.

“Hey, dude! Over here!” Deuce called out to him as the monsters around them trudged to their next classes. The only indication that he was exhausted were the cobras at his forehead, dreary-eyed and slumped. Jackson smiled with delight as he walked over to him, patting his arm with sympathy. Jackson picked up on things like that, especially friends like Gorgon.

“What’s up?” Deuce was about to speak when Jackson interrupted him, sensing the cautious expression beneath his sunglasses. “Wait, is there casketball tryouts today? Do you want me to join the casketball team again?” Deuce was about to say yes, when Jack interrupted him once more. “I know Clawd won’t accept me, just because I’m a normie and everyone despises me for that.” 

Deuce waited. Then spoke. “All these stone cold normie discriminations make me sick,” he hissed, deciding not to continue his original line of thought. 

“Well, I’m glad someone cares. Honestly, I think monsters get it worse.” He added, Deuce rolled his eyes, his opinions were stronger than a brick wall. “Anyway, you could always try to convince them into letting me in, and maybe we could mention Holt.” 

Deuce started to look like he had just made an outstanding grade in mad science. “Yes! that’s it! I mean, what’s the harm in doing it? Clawd’s my dude, I could try! Great thinking!” Deuce walked off, wanting Jackson to follow. He looked around.  _ But all I said was convincing would help. Doesn’t mean it will happen. _

Jackson did not follow, however, and after a bit of staring down, Deuce shrugged and walked off without him. He had to wonder just how much convincing it would take.

  
  
  


Jackson walked into the boy’s gym. As he expected, Clawd, the captain of the casketball team, was there. Claws Country season wasn’t quite over yet, so casketball was practicing for the season coming up. Heath, his cousin, walked over to Jackson, and said in a snide voice: “Well if it isn’t the half loser. Hey Jackie-lantern!” 

“Heath, you really think that was necessary?” Clawd asked annoyedly as the casketball players laughed. “Come on, that wasn’t even a little funny!” Clawd huffed. 

“Oh, hey Clawd! I was just… checking in with Deuce.” Jackson stuttered as Clawd smirked. 

“You’re here to try out for the team, aren’t you?” 

“Um.” Jackson skittishly placed a hand on the back of his head. “You don’t mind?” he asked nervously, expecting Clawd to send him out, but it was different. After all, Clawd never outright disliked normies. 

“When did I ever say no? There’s no need to look disappointed!” Clawd laughed as Jackson stared in confusion to what he had just heard. Jackson was used to being rejected by other monsters, unless it had something to do with Holt.

“Wow, really?” Jackson asked, expecting there to be some sort of hidden camera prank, that was going to end up on FrightTube.

“Come on, don’t act like I’ve never seen you play before!” Clawd laughed as the casketball players tried to object to the idea. The team exchanged looks at each other as Jackson was still hesitant to say anything. Heath quickly ran to Clawd.

“You must be joking! I mean, Holt is better, he’s a monster!  _ And _ he’s stronger! I mean, Holt is pretty popular, he could give us good riputation!” 

Clawd stayed into the ‘Jackson joining the crew’ topic. “Holt  _ might _ have what we’re looking for, but I’m not giving up on the idea of the ‘first normie on the team.’ Sure, some monsters might get upset over that, but he can throw pretty far, so I think we could win this game if Jackson plays. He may not talk much, but that doesn’t stop him from getting competitive. And I don’t think Holt would care enough to even try.” Jackson started to regret his suggestion of joining the casketball team. 

“Yeah, he has a point,” one of the casketball players said as they shrugged.

“Wow, I wasn’t actually expecting you to say yes.” Jackson looked down nervously. 

“Jack, look. You are probably the best casketball player I’ve seen, and since you have another personality, he could take your place if you need to sit out, or something along the lines. It’ll be double the luck - literally!” Clawd said happily. “Besides, don’t you want to be known for something other than being a normie?” 

“Wouldn’t you want to see me practice first?” Jackson asked, swerving around the question completely.

“Gladly!” Clawd jumped, just as Deuce walked in. “Hey, dude! Oh... hey Jackson!” Deuce walked in conveniently.

“Alright. We’ll play ‘gotcha’; it’s a normie game. Deuce, Gil, Heath: get behind Jackson.” Clawd walked to get two casketballs as they lined up and passed it to Jackson, and Deuce, who was right behind Jack. “The rules are simple. Jackson already knows how to play this, I’m assuming?” 

Clawd looked over to Jackson as he shook his head.

“Alright. Don’t cross this line until you’ve made your first shot. If you do make it, pass the ball to the monster behind you, unless you’re the first, then you’ll pass it behind the person with the other casketball. Next, if the monster behind you scores, you’re out. If the person in front of you scores before you start, you are not out, you just start the next game. Alright, on the whistle...” Clawd pulled out a golden whistle that was in his pocket, gifted by his ghoulfriend, Draculaura. As soon as the loud sound the whistle had made, the game began.

Jackson threw the ball as it landed in the goal. He threw the ball to Heath, who was behind Deuce. As the game went on, Gil got out as he had accidentally thrown the ball nine inches away from the casketball goal. As he went to go get the ball, Jackson got him out by throwing the ball so hard he got exactly on point, and even creating a dent in the red square. After a while, Deuce got Heath out by scoring a shot followed by long hours of Deuce and Jackson battling it out until Deuce finally got thirsty and surrendered.

Clawd blew his whistle to officially end the game. He started to clap and ran to congratulate Jackson. “I knew you could do it Jack-a-boy! Uh, am I allowed to call you that? Doesn’t matter. You’re on the team!” he howled with a giant smile, raising Jackson’s hand as if he won a game of wrestling.

After everyone welcomed him to the team, it was time to head to fifth hour, in which he had to take the clawculus test he had previously been studying for.


	2. Golden Boy

**Jackson** hated his clawculus class. Not because of the math work, or the teacher, but simply because every time they took a test or quiz, the teacher would put on music.

As Jackson stepped in the classroom, he grunted. As was expected, there was music; not loud, but loud enough to make Holt appear.  _ Great. Holt will probably fail, and leave me to do the work to bring our grades up like always.  _ He groaned in pain as the glare of fire swept over Jackson, Holt appeared.

Holt, happy that he existed again, shouted, “Hey everybody!” as all the ghouls started squealing, and the growls yelled. Holt was a very popular guy, mostly because he was known as the local DJ. What really made him blow up was last year: he would meet stars and bring them to Monster High just for a visit with fans. Holt was unbelievably likable his sophomore year, and now he was a senior at seventeen, still adored by almost everyone.

“Class! Take your seats! Holt, for disrupting my class, I’m going to have to-” Mr. Rotter stopped. Holt’s eyes were very mesmerizing. It was easy to trick anyone into doing anything for him. “Cover your eyes, please!” He yelled in his thick Transylvanian accent as he looked away, shielding his face with his hands. “You and your father! Just take your seat,” he grumbled. 

Holt raised an eyebrow as he sat down.  _ Did Mr. Rotter know my father? _ Holt knew that his eyes were tempting, but he didn’t know he could persuade the teachers with them. Perhaps it had to do with their strab he color. Hyde had red eyes, with a dark-to-light texture. Near it was a silver brow piercing on his left side along with the face tattoo. It was a weird tattoo, and no one knows when or why he got it. Not even Holt knew. It was in the shape of fire; a wave type motion, that curved wildly around his eye. In any case, Holt’s eyes were mesmerizing. To use them on flirty ghouls was one thing, but this? This was new.

Holt quickly changed from confused to angry once he snapped away from his thoughts and saw the test on his desk. He was in clawculus, his least favorite subject. As his eyes rushed through the test questions, Holt raised his hand and asked Mr. Rotter if he could turn off his music. Mr. Rotter, in shock, said, “Well, yes, some may find it distracting to some of our grave students!” He said brightly as he walked to his laptop to turn the console off. Mr. Rotter was very strict, and always told his class, “I don’t give A’s!” until it was engraved in their brains. He would say he has no favorites, but most would doubt when Jackson was around. With a rush of fire, Jackson was back. His head was starting to spin from so much transforming in one day. He looked around and then down, noticing the blank papers. Scrawled on the side in Holt’s handwriting, there was a note:  _ Soooo boring!!! Get us an A! _

“Thank Ghoul. It’s about time he turns that music off,” Jackson mumbled, erasing the note with a snicker. When he finished, he handed in his test, and went back to his desk.


	3. Debate

**After** the bell, everyone ran out of the classroom. As Jackson walked out in the main hall, he spotted a debate booth about whether freshwater should have a clean up or saltwater should. Jackson sighed.  _ I’m guessing Lagoona and Gil are fighting again. _ And of course, at each side of the stand were Gil and Lagoona, trying to persuade people to vote as they argued. Jackson walked up to them, eyebrow raised.

Gil was blubbering on about something. “Listen, Lagoona. Your family uses the bathroom in that water, and they harm normies, so what’s the point of monsters cleaning it up if all they’re gonna do is try and bite their heads off?” Gil gestured to Jackson who was now waiting for their attention.  _ Jeez. Don’t get  _ me  _ involved!  _

“They might, but yours would, too! Also, are you forgetting that sea water makes up most of the entire planet,  _ and  _ it heals fresh cuts? Plus, we have creatures that actually help normies and monsters not to get eaten!” Gil became flustered and was redder than Operetta's hair. “Yeah, you didn’t think about that now did ya, mate? Your water contains so many blood suckling jerks, I don’t know how you’re still standin if you say you live in it!” 

“Hey, th- that’s enough!” Jackson interrupted before the argument before it got worse. 

Gil and Lagoona came to a halt as Jackson continued, Lagoona adopting a weak smile. 

Jackson thought the quiet was awkward. They were both staring. He chuckled. “May I sign?” 

“Why of course, love!” Lagoona said, handing him a petition sheet stating that salt water fish deserved a beach clean-up. Jackson scanned the fact sheet and began to fold it into his pocket.

“Excuse me, Lagoona, but I think he’ll need the other flyer, too,” Gil said, gritting his teeth.

“Oh! Silly me!” Lagoona handed him the other sheet, and leaned towards him. “Vote for the sea monsters and you won’t have to deal with stepping in glass shards every time you go to the beach!”

“Think about the frog creatures, Jack! The babies!” 

Lagoona looked scandalized. “Oh, shut up!” 

Gil sniffed. “Jack, if you vote to clear the lakes of oil, there’ll be no more angry creatures in my water.” Jackson was friends with Gil and Lagoona, and he would never do anything to hurt them. As he handed it back to Gil, who looked anxious to speak, looked up at him and smiled.

“Thank y-” His words broke off as Gil shoved a petition into his arms. Jackson didn’t fill any bubbles they provided him. Jackson had added ‘both’ and filled it in. Lagoona looked over at Gil to see what he was looking at, and blushed. Lagoona and Gil were a mushy type, getting into fights, and dramatically getting back together, so it was somewhat normal for them to do this. Well, as normal could get around here.

So Jackson smiled and walked away, leaving Gil and Lagoona. He felt happy. It was sixth hour. He loved sixth hour. And not because it was the second to last class of the day, but because it was Mad Science. He did very well in Mad Science, and even though he knew he got it from his father, he couldn’t help but love it.


	4. Love or Lust

**Frankie** stood outside of the darkened classroom, tapping her heels and blocking the door by the time Jack was there. Her head swiveled to meet him. “Mr. Hack isn’t here.” Her voice was cheerful. No one really liked Mr. Hack because of his attitude. All except for Jackson, who was his favorite student, and him his favorite teacher. 

“Oh, is there a substitute?” Jackson asked, hoping he could at least stay in the classroom. 

Frankie didn’t budge. “I don’t know.” Jackson huffed at her response. “But if you want, we could always just… skip class.” Surprise washed over Jackson. He had never skipped a class involving mad science or anything that wasn’t Physical Deaducation. Frankie was the kind to try everything at least once, and even though it was surprising to see the good girl suggest such a thing… it wasn't technically out of character, either.

“Are you sure you don’t know if there’s a substitute?” Frankie nodded, maybe a bit impatiently, and grabbed Jack by the hand. “Woah, what are you doing, Frankie?” 

Frankie did not respond. As they walked into the coffin room towards a janitor’s closet that was growing ever so closer, Jackson’s thoughts began leading him into paths he did not like and held back. Frankie stopped with him. “Frankie! What are you doing?” 

“Doing what you want.” 

Jackson quickly took a step back. “I beg your pardon?”

“My teen magazine says that relationships should-” 

Jackson put his hand on Frankie’s shoulder. “Your magazine also says that Goo B-eye-den will be a good president.” 

Frankie interrupted him. “He’d be better than-”

Jackson interrupted her with a groan. “Frankie…” He struggled to find his words. He had just about decided to turn back and walk to science, empty room or not, when Frankie spotted the radio from earlier and pressed the on button.

Jackson had quickly realized what Frankie was going to do, and before he could do anything, his vision fell behind fire and he woke up in a dorm room in a cold sweat. And, of course, accompanied by Frankie. 

He violently sat up as an electric current ran past him, breathing heavily. Frankie looked up as her smile changed quickly, her bolts stung. “Jackson!” Jackson got up, forehead hot. 

“Don’t speak,” he said. Jackson never thought he would be this disappointed in Frankie. She got up as well. Her clothing was ruffled. She started tearing up. 

“I’m sorry. I really am!” Jackson did not answer. After he was done putting his shoes on, he headed to the doorway as Frankie followed. 

“Out,” he said. Jack never thought he could be so angry. 

“I really am.“ 

“Please.” 

With that, Frankie shut her lips tight and walked out of the dorm to her own. 

Just as she stormed out, some of the boys nearby headed in.  _ Pervs,  _ he guessed,  _ trying to listen in on us.  _ “Who let the ghouls out?” said one. Another one of the mansters joked, “Who turned the music off?” Laughter faced down Jackson as he struggled to button his shirt. Someone pulled out their iCoffin. He was about to hit play when Deuce, drawn by the noise, drew near and hit the phone out of his hand. Jackson wasn’t sure how his beast friend always managed to save his hide, but he was glad he did.

“Hey!” the manster howled, ferreting the ground for his phone and then examining it for cracks. “What was that for?” 

Deuce sighed and shook his head, deciding to ignore him. He aced the crowd. “We can’t have Holt in here, dudes. Remember what happened last time?”

Some of the mansters broke from their snickering and began to nod their heads as they looked toward one manster that managed to get his eye torn out by the guy. Holt had blasted it from the socket, and since then he wore an eyepatch. A less emotional monster stood up and started to complain about how he didn’t want a nerd to be in his presence.

Jackson was so fed up by what happened in the past three minutes, that he ended up saying, “You’re a fucking jerk,” and stormed out of the dorm room, and decided to take a walk along the campus. Deuce probably got the idea, and ran to catch up with Jackson.

“I’m sorry about earlier. What were you doing in there, anyway?” 

Jackson paused at this.  _ How do I say this? This is so awkward… damnit Jackson, say something!  _ “I was… sorting my clothes. That’s all.” Jackson laughed nervously.

“I can tell when you’re lying, Jack.” 

Jackson grimaced. “What do you mean? I’m not lying!” 

“Jack, no one sorts their clothes with no clothes on.” 

Jackson turned scareberry-red. He felt sick. “I’d rather not talk about it right now,” he said, feeling worse than ever.

Deuce stared at him as if he were a detective, but thankfully valued Jackson’s feelings over the truth. “Okay. Then how was the test?” 

Jackson forced himself to smile. “Great! I know I made an A!” 

Deuce hummed as he responded with “good.” There was an awkward pause. Neither said anything until they went for their second loop around the fountain.

Deuce stopped him. “Hey, dude?” Jackson looked at him. “I saw Frankie run out of the room… uh, crying. Did you talk to her?” Jackson almost tripped. He shook his head. Deuce looked disappointed. “Look. You're my beast friend, dude. Can you please tell me what happened?” 

Jackson bit his tongue to stop him from vomiting. His stomach was so twisted. “Right.” Deuce perked up. “Frankie and I were standing outside of class… and she… wanted me to… skip… a-a-and I thought she wanted to talk… in private about... something…” Deuce started to get the idea that this obviously wasn’t a joke, so he put his arm over his shoulder and sat him down on a nearby bench as he continued. “I asked her if she knew where Mr. Hack was… and then I assumed she was taking me to the creepateria… and she wasn’t.” Jackson’s voice started to shake. His head was aching. “I told her to stop, but she told me she was doing–“

Deuce broke Jackson off: “She  _ knew _ you were trying to say no!” 

Jackson’s gut clenched. “Long story short, I woke up in bed with her, and I got really mad at her. I told her to leave.” But Jackson loved Frankie. Even if she did something wrong. But this was  _ wrong _ . Jackson shut his eyes. Were his cheeks wet? Maybe it was raining. “And I think I broke up with her.” Deuca said nothing. Jackson kept his eyes closed. “Can we go back inside?”

“I’ll always be here for you, and just say the word and I’ll call someone.” He paused. “Yeah, let’s go inside.”

As they walked back to the commons, he thought about what had happened again. He started feeling a sense of guilt. But it wasn’t him. It was someone else.  _ Holt? _ It seemed to feel… apologetic.  _ How could I forgive him after what he’s done?  _ Jackson‘s legs were weak.  _ Then again… I’ve never felt this feeling from him before… he really must be sorry… _ Jackson decided not to delve into it too much. Above him, the sun shone bright and hot, and Jackson never hated the sunshine so much in his life.


	5. The Album Without A Name

**Weeks** later, Holt had just opened his eyes, feeling exhausted for the first time in years. He was in a dorm. One of the guys was hanging over his bunk, being Jackson meant being classified as his own twin, and that meant two beds for one guy, with a music box playing his unreleased album. Not a mixtape. An original. Holt’s mind rumbled through cogwork and sleepiness until only one thought surrounded him:  _ What the hell?  _

Holt pulled the monster out of the top bunk by his arm and threw him off. 

“Ow! Now easy, Holt. We wouldn’t want you to kill yourself over it!” he laughed. Holt grabbed the box and removed the DVD, he then turned around to pick up his skullmate by the shirt collar.

He looked over to see his now opened book bag with his Slayboy magazines and half opened laptop pouring out. He turns back to him in a rage. “Why the fuck were you digging in my stuff?” The student quickly frowned and shot his hands up.

“Sorry, man! I didn’t think you’d get  _ that  _ worked up over-” 

“Well, would you mind if I went through your stuff, found some used underwear, and exposed you to everyone for being a bedwetter? Man, don’t even come for me with that bullshit!” He threw his disc across the room, turned to his nightstand, snapped his fingers twice, and made a hissing sound with his tongue. A slow little chameleon crawled up his arm to his shoulder. Holt turned back to the manster with a raised eyebrow and watched the boy’s face turned white. “Thought so, you nosy piece of shit.” He turned back around to look at his disheveled backpack, and grunted as he stuffed his bag with the previously spilled magazines and laptop. “How many did you fuckheads listen to?” 

The boy, a gargoyle, looked to his toes. “A few. Maybe all of them.” 

“And who the hell thought this was a good fuckin’ idea?” 

Another monster came forward. It was Manny. Apparently it wasn’t just the two of them. Holt blinked furiously. “I did, but you don’t have to beat me up, you-” And before Manny could call him the name he so desperately wanted to spit at him, Holt grabbed Manny by the horns. 

“This stuff is private. You weren’t supposed to touch it. That’s why it wasn’t out in the first place. And yes, Manny, if you do it again I will beat y’all up, and I’ll make sure none of you dumbasses will be able to get up ever again.”

Manny mooed in surprise. “It wasn’t my fault!” Holt let go, letting Manny fall to the ground.

“Great! Then who was it?” he exclaimed, lifting his hands up before throwing them back down as he looked around the room. 

“It was Heath!” 

There was a long pause.

Holt laughed at him in total disbelief.  _ This can’t be true… I trust him! He’s my cousin for fuck’s sake! _ “Don’t lie to me, you bastard,” he snarled. 

“Aren’t we all bastards?” one of the mansters joked.  _ Heath _ . He slowly tried to leave, but he was no match for Holt.

Heath started running as Holt took off after him, and before anyone knew it, Heath’s neck was in the tight grasp of Holt’s hand. “Holt, I really didn’t mean to! We were just messin’ around, you know? Just thought it’d be somethin’ funny to wake up to!” He laughed nervously. Holt loosened his grip on him and grumbled.

“Yeah, hilarious.” 

Invisi Billy appeared on the scene. “Holt... I’m sorry to bring this up,” he said, nervously backing up as Holt turned to face him with his enchanting, yet intimidating eyes, “In some of those songs… you seemed to talk about mental health and your… I guess ‘broken’ childhood is a way to put it… You know you could always talk to-” 

''I don’t feel like getting into this right now.” Holt interrupted as he turned. Just then, his phone vibrated. It was a text from his manager. 

_ Holy shit _ . Him and his lizard both looked at the notification, “Look, I need to go, now don’t touch anything else or it’ll be all of your asses.” 

He grabbed his bag and took off. He ran to the bathroom right before any teacher could see him with his pet. He entered a stall that had just been cleaned after what seemed like decades. He took out his phone to check the notification. “Here, Crossy,” he offered a tiny cricket he held using small pliers. After he ate the insect, Holt wiped off an area so he could place the orange colored chameleon on the toilet seat.

_Leneus: Hey Holt! Just letting you know that your new album you released last night is doing really well! You surprised me with this one, you didn’t really tell me you were dropping another album… but I was extremely_ _grateful and proud for how good your singing was, I’d even say it was like an angel! You probably even hit a world record of fastest rising artist! You’ll be out of this town in no time! Congratulations, I’m proud of you!_

Leneus was his manager, a cheery manster with high spirit and an unhealthy obsession with money. He was a bluffer, but not a liar. Holt reread the text. Then again. And again.

His heart collapsed as his face turned pale blue. “I didn’t… huh? It was.. leaked?” He felt a mixed feeling of frustration and fear. “Oh, Ghoul. I wasn’t ready for this!” He started to shake. “I’m gonna kill him!” He punched the stall door, causing it to fall. Holt’s anger started to spread. “Son of a bitch!” There was a huge dent on the door now, as it lay on the floor. Nothing was shielding him from the bathroom mirrors.  _ God damn it! ‘Just messin’ around’ my ass… _

The bell rang. He held his hand to a big pocket in his backpack which was one of Crossfade’s favorite resting places and let him crawl in. As Holt slowly walked to his class, he instantly remembered that his fans were a thing when twenty-or-so girls started running towards him.

_ Shit. _

Holt never knew how to deal with fans, of course. All he’d do is flirt. But he was going to be late, again, and he wanted to make up for what he did to Jackson. But this time, his fans weren’t screaming, or trying to get him to sign their body parts. They were touching his chest and back and crying. One girl started to press on his backpack when Holt nervously laughed as he jolted it away.

“Holt, do you really feel that way?” one of them asked. “We do love you, Holt!” another sobbed. “Holt, I’m so sorry about everything the world has done to you!” someone added. “You sing like an angel, Holt…You’re too pure for this world!” another said. Holt had heard enough.

“Alright, thank you for showing your appreciation for me, and you all are very beautiful, but I really need to go to class.” He laughed nervously, thinking that it’d never work.

Surprisingly, the girls moved out of the way. He winked and thanked them, then ran to his first hour, hearing the brags of the ghouls: “Holt winked at me!” and “No, he winked at me!”

He sat down next to Frankie. “Hi!” She said in a cute voice as she giggled faker than a doll.  _ I hate this. _ He thought. He wanted to confront her but he didn’t know how. After all, he did give consent on his end, and it wasn’t like Jack broke up for the  _ both  _ of them.

“Frankie, listen… I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry? Holt, I’m the one who should apologize.” Her face crumpled to pieces as if the whole façade had been fragile. Holt gave a weak laugh. Frankie smiled back and suddenly raised her hand for the teacher. Holt was startled. 

“Yes, miss Stein?” 

“May I use the bathroom?” She turned to Holt and winked. Holt interrupted so it didn’t sound suspicious. 

“Oh, I wanted to use the bathroom too.” The teacher sighed. 

“Alright, hurry up. Don’t be talking in the halls, now.” As Holt and Frankie left the classroom, Frankie grabbed Holt’s hand and started to walk. Holt didn’t know what to think of this. 

“Uh, Frankie, we better not be doing what I think we’re doing… again.” Holt fake-laughed. 

“You’ll see,” she said, and Holt felt at least a little comforted.

Eventually, they found an empty supply closet that looked older than Cleo’s earrings. Holt felt uneasy. He didn’t want to break Jackson’s already unstable trust again.

She locked the door. “Alright, Frankie, listen. We’re not–“

“Don’t worry. It’s not what you think. It’s about something else.” She sat down on a dusty tire. Holt did the same. “Well, it’s about your songs… and our relationship.” 

Holt grunted when he heard the word ‘songs.’ “Listen, you weren’t supposed to hear those. In fact, _no one_ was supposed to. They were my personal songs I wrote for myself. I didn’t even want to share them.”

“Holt, it’s been bothering me every day, and those songs make me feel way more guilty.” 

“What are you talking about?“ 

“Holt, during our pause… I cheated on you. More than once. I’m so sorry.” She broke off and started to cry. Holt was dumbfounded. He sat there as his eyes widened, his breath getting thicker. “Please forgive me.” 

“No.” 

Frankie looked up, feeling even worse. 

“Frankie… this isn’t the first time you’ve ever done this to me. Don’t you remember Skull Shores? Cleo told me what happened with you and that giant.” He no longer felt pain. He just felt… disappointed. 

“Holt…”

“Frankie, Jackson loves you. _I_ love you. How could you do this again and expect forgiveness? To be honest, I’m surprised _I_ haven’t cheated on you, yet.” Frankie paused, she had nothing else to say. “Frankie, I think _we_ should break up. For good this time.” Frankie knew this would happen. She continued to cry as Holt left the room. And he didn’t look back. 

  
  


“So… what took you so long?” The teacher stared through Hyde’s soul. Holt paused. He forgot he asked to leave for the bathroom. How long had it been?

“I got lost.” The other students started giggling at Holt’s flushed face.

“Sure you did. Sit down.”

The bell rang and everyone burst out of class. Holt went into the guys bathroom where he previously broke down the stall door.

Something strange must have happened to him. He felt as if he would never smile again.  _ Why is today, out of all days, so fucked up for me? _

And with a final grimace, he looked into the mirror. The world around him spun, and he had no footing.


	6. Pretty Woman

**He** went to his locker and placed inside the now leaked yet shattered DVD on top of the dozens of unopened love letters from girls Holt didn’t even know. _Great_ . _Just cheery._

He turned around and placed his face in his palms. He didn’t notice the approaching ghoul.

“Bone-jour, I’m new and… how you say… _vous êtes sur… — ah!_ You are in ze way.” Holt quickly looked up, tearing his hands from his face. His eyes dilated, he was awestruck. 

She was the definition of beauty to Holt. Her hair was a luxurious purple with dark pink strands, and her skin was as white as snow. Her lips looked as though they were untouchable. She was as fit as a model. Her sky blue eyes were now staring up at his.

“Excusez-moi, you understand me, no? Perhaps my English is no good, sorry.” She glanced down, pushing her hair out of her face.

“No! You’re pretty good at the… English thing. Sorry, I’ll move.” He stared at her royal cheekbones as she struggled to unlock the code, checking her schedule every few seconds. “I can get that for you,” he said as he busted the locker door open, Catrine blushed. “Those lock combinations aren’t actually real. I don’t know why they’re like that, you can go ahead and take that off.” 

Catrine stared. “Ehm… thank you!” Holt was surprised he wasn’t recognized or even catcalled by her until it hit him that she was foreign.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, it was like she had drugged him with some sort of love potion Cleo would make. He had never fully fallen in love with any girl he had laid eyes on. Maybe lust was tricking him yet again. But why did it feel like this? It was like meeting Frankie all over again. Just the thought of her made him grimace. “Hey, so what’s your name?” Catrine made a movement to imply she didn’t hear what he just said, and Holt recognized it. He immediately remembered she was limited on her English. Luckily, he took French last year. Holt racked his brain. “Uh... Quel est votre nom?” 

Catrine’s eyes widened when Holt spoke the second time. “Oh! Vous pouvez parler français! Je m'appelle Catrine!” she said proudly. “Le tiens?”

“Hyde, Holt Hyde,” he said seductively. _I could help her…_ “I can teach you English!” 

“Magnifique!” She responded, her delicate hands now outstretched around Holt’s torso. He laughed nervously, holding her arms, for some reason not knowing how to hug people anymore. Were Europeans always touchy? 

Luckily, the bell rang before Holt had to think about it much more. Catrine wished him goodbye and kissed the air between both of his cheeks before leaving. Holt was confused more than usual. His mouth was parted open and he had never felt the urge to fall in love with someone he just met. He quickly looked down to check if he had a bulge and quickly fixed it as he blushed even more, embarrassed. 

  
  


After second hour, as he started to head towards his third class, he noticed Catrine was starting to catch up to him. He felt his gut jump. “Holt! Holt!” He slowed down as she ran to him. She asked what classroom he was headed to. “F453,” he responded nervously, his face started to feel hot.

Monster High was a huge school, having around seven hundred classrooms, two huge cafeterias, a dungeon, two pools, one inside and one outside, four dorm rooms for each ghoul and growl, a graveball stadium, and even enough room for two dragons. It was one of the best, biggest, and most inclusive monster schools in the world, so it wasn’t that surprising that there would be exchange students.

She smiled excitedly. “I am headed to that class!” Holt felt his heart leap. He felt real excitement for once. 

“Nice!” He responded as his face started to turn purple with blush. “H-How are you? You’re shivering.” 

“Oh, fine. It is cold.” Her eyes looked up at Holt’s red pupils and smiled seductively. He turned his head away rather quickly, remembering the thing about his eyes and felt even more silly as he continuously wanted to punch his own face.

Catrine shivered, but when Holt offered his jacket, she refused. He insisted. “Okay,” she said, smiling, as Holt slipped it off and kindly placed it on her. “Holt, I’m sorry, but what is it on your face?” She pointed to his tattoo. 

“It’s a tattoo, I think. I don’t remember when I got it, I have another one on my back. My friends and I, freshman year, tattooed eachother one time when we got drunk.” he laughed, Catrine laughing along with him as if she understood the humor in what he said.


	7. Only Hate For You

**They** finally reached the classroom. It was Monster History. Holt hated this class, but only because some lessons would be about his parents. Holt always feels pain when he hears his father's name, all he wants to do is apologize to Jackson, but he knows he can’t. 

Holt sat down in his assigned seat while Catrine strayed up to the teacher. Holt beamed as she walked. She had a voluptuous body, and a skinny waist. He heard all the ghouls whispering as the boys violently grabbed their books to hide their crotch.

As she turned around, Holt hoped that she was placed next to him. He had never been this desperate for a girl before. Something must have changed. She walked up to Holt with an excited look on her face. “Ze teacher told me I sit next to you because you are the only French-speaking person in class!” she whispered. As she finished, Holt heard some of the boys sigh in disappointment. He was pleased even more by this.

“Alright class, so today for our genealogy project, we are going to be looking at some of ye parents’ backstories!” the teacher exclaimed in delight. Holt was already uncomfortable with this. _I just know he’s going to pick me. Nothing is going right today._ He felt a slight tug on his black Thrasher shirt, Catrine had asked what he had said, so Holt answered quickly that he had been talking to himself.

It continued like this for about ten minutes when Mr. Hack began starting the actual lesson. “Now, have any of you blokes ever heard of the famous Jekyll and Hyde?” Holt stumbled on his words as he translated and rolled his eyes. Catrine was immediately confused about what he had said. He knew after this lesson, the whole class would hate him. It happened to him freshman year. “I know one of yus have.” He looked at Holt, expecting him to be smiling, but he wasn’t. He hated his father, everything he had done has affected him quite heavily. “Now c'mon Holt, cheer up! Yer learning about ye ol’ Paps!” Holt couldn’t stand to listen to him much longer. 

“He’s no father to me,” Holt replied darkly. Mr. Hack was obviously uncomfortable, so he decided to ignore what he had said. Catrine did not ask.


	8. Aftermath

“ **And** with hearin’ about all them murders his superhuman personality committed, he decided the best way to slay the beast was to slay himself. Quite brutal if ye ask me.” Holt was mortified. Sure, he had heard this story thousands of times, but each time he was told about Dr. Jekyll’s death, he felt like it was somehow his fault. Catrine had asked what he had said again, since Holt froze up for the third time throughout the lecture. He answered, his voice shaking. Catrine had asked if there was anything wrong. He assured her there was not.

As they gathered their things and waited for the bell, Holt looked around the room. He could tell people were uncomfortable. They looked as if they wanted to apologize, but weren’t sure if he agreed with his father’s actions or not, so they stayed as far away as possible. 

_ God damn it. Everyone acts like their parents were saints! _ Holt rolled his eyes.  _ Entitled assholes. _

Holt left the classroom, making Catrine chase after him. “Holt! You are a Hyde, right?” Holt didn’t want to answer but he knew if he didn’t, it would damage their new relationship. 

“Catrine… My dad was a terrible monster. A murderer. A creep. I hope you won’t think that of me.” 

Catrine paused. “Just because your father was zat should not mean you will be zat too.”

Holt liked the sentiment.


	9. The Manager

**Jackson** had just woken up with fifty-two notifications on his phone. He tried to sit up as he adjusted his glasses. He reeked of whiskey and seemed to be covered in cigarette buds and blood. His throat was dry and his whole body felt cramped. His abdomen felt punctured, cold and wet, but he was too cramped to look.

_ Oh, no… Please don’t be dead… And I swear to God, if you killed someone... _

He seemed to be in an alley lit up with a dim pink, but Jack couldn’t see as well from all the trauma his brain was trying to process.  _ Where the hell am I now, Holt? _ He felt angry, Holt had been hooking up again. 

Little feet could be heard running toward Jackson as a tiny black figure crawled closer and closer to him. “Crossfade… how did you find me? Where were you?” Jackson knew he couldn’t answer him, but was glad he wasn’t totally lost.

Holt was known to hook up with strangers in dark alleys, but more specifically, strippers. He used to work in the strip club,  _ Ghouls, Ghouls, Ghouls!  _ He went by DJ Hyde before they figured out his actual age and kicked him out. That’s when he met his manager, who basically saved his career.

Jackson looked down. There was blood on the ground where he laid. He stood up almost immediately. “C’mon Holt please just say- uh… feel something! What the hell were you doing?” He felt stressed with a bit of an erect feeling. He quickly looked down. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Long day?” Jack pulled out his phone. 

_ 10:28 PM _

_ Frankie: I miss you  _

_ Catrine: Holt, I think something is wrong. I saw you storm out of class again. What's happening? You can tell me anything. -Gros bisous, Catrine. _

_ Heath: good luck on your interview, buddy! 2 thumbs wayy up!!! (btw can you hook me up with someone? bored :) ) _

_ unknown: I had fun tonight, can’t wait to do it again. _

_ Leneus: Good job at the interview! Your persuasion and posture were great! Jimmy Falcon commented that he was really impressed with you on Critter! Your songs really moved the town. See you at my office! Remember: Limo leaves at 10:30 for New Salem Times HQ. Be there. _

_ Heath: helloooo are you there??? _

_ Leneus: Holt, where are you? _

_ Leneus: You need to be here. Limo leaves soon. Dress nice. _

Jackson was taken aback. “Holt, what did you do?” he whispered. As he stumbled to find his car, he wondered who Catrine and Unknown were. Catrine seemed concerned with him. He texted Leneus back:

_ Hi, it’s Jack. Holt seemed to have snuck off. He was drinking and smoking, I don’t think he’s alright. He seems to have been very stressed. _

His manager responded almost immediately after Jackson sent the text.

_ Leneus: That little rascal! I’m going to need to talk with him. Make sure you drive him over here to me. Thank you for informing me, Jackson! Stay safe, but do hurry! _

Jackson groaned. “Holt, you better not be drunk or I swear I’ll beat you- uh… mentally.” He turned on Holt’s favorite song, but this time, he slowly shifted into the blue boy. He sat so still he almost looked paralyzed.

His face was blushing purple as he faced the ceiling of the car he blinked slowly as he laughed dryly. His hair was extremely messy, his smile was comedic, his clothes were bloody, and his pants were unzipped. He grunted and grasped at his wound. 

He had stabbed himself with a broken beer bottle. He couldn’t remember why. He coughed up blood and he thought he was going to die, when his wound stopped leaking, and began forming skin.

This was Holt’s pet peeve: his ability to heal faster than the average monster. It seemed like every time he injured himself, his power would be strengthened. All that was left was the bloodstains on his shirt, and the blood that dried on his chin.

“ _ You’re no fun.” _

Holt held his phone and read.  _ God damn it, Jekyll. _ When Holt made it to his manager’s office, the first thing he saw on his grecian face was anger quickly turning into concern.

He was a satyr. A 4 foot 8 creature with goat-like legs and a tail and horns protruding through his head in a spiral shape. Holt being six feet tall really didn’t help poor Leneus’s insecurity, but he really didn’t let it get to him.

“Holy Calvary, boy!” He screamed as he galloped quickly to get paper towels. 

“Calm down, Leneus. It’s not a huge ass deal, I only punctured my stomach…” His smile started to weaken as he looked around and back. “Okay, maybe it sounds like it, but it really isn’t!” He laughed as he clumsily fell into the chair.

“Holt, you’re bleeding all over the place!” 

“Yeah, and?” 

Leneus took a quick sniff. “Is that whiskey? Holt, this is the ninth time you’ve done this, what’s wrong with you, boy?” 

“I don’t know, guess I was a little stressed.”

“Stressed? People that are stressed out do not do these types of things, Holt! Here, put this suit on and clean up, you’re getting blood on my leather.”

Holt rolled his eyes as he stood up and walked towards the bathroom behind the satyr’s desk and mimicked him with his hand as he talked. “Hurry, boy, we have the New Salem Times waiting for us!”


	10. Fun

**Holt** sighed as he entered his warm car. It was a Ford Mustang, newest of its kind. Inside was almost like a jungle, designed for his “one and only.” Vines and branches hung everywhere in the back, and there was his favorite chameleon, Crossfade. He heard his phone go off so he pulled it out.

He felt burnt out, he was asked questions he did not want to answer. He was scared if he didn’t, Leneus would give him a nice surprise afterward.

Leneus was like a dad Holt never had, not perfect, but better than what Holt's real father would’ve been. 

His red tux stood out with his fixed fire-like hair, all curled up. He had wiped his face of all the make-up the backstage crew had put on him.  _ Did I even need this shit?  _ His tie was undone, he was ready to end the day. He lazily scrolled through his phone.

_ Catrine: Hey Holt, could you come over? I’d like to cook with you. It would be fun! _

Holt‘s eyes widened curiously. He took off his red Chanel blazer, and rolled up his sleeves of his white polka-dot buttoned down.

_ Holt: sure, where do you live? _

He watched the chat bubble intently.

  
  
  


Holt pulled into her smooth driveway, revealing a small, modern, two story white house. It was a very elegant neighborhood she lived in; good houses with the type of neighbors that would bring others treats every howliday, like a family. Holt looked into her windows. The rooms seemed to be empty. He knocked on the door and listened closely.

Holt’s ears were extremely advanced. Once, he was in the creepateria, and over all the loud talking and yelling, he heard Perseus, Deuce’s pet rat, squeak to the smell of food from a tiny hole across the lunchroom. Perks of being a monster, he guessed.

He heard her little white feet shuffle on the clean floor, rushing to open the door Holt was standing on the other side of. The door opened. 

“Holt! Come in! Sorry if the house is a little messy. I just moved in a couple days ago.”

Her entrance was a white walled, marbled floor masterpiece with a chandelier hung with a great grip on the ceiling. There were tiny boxes on a well-crafted wooden table. “It’s better than my crib at school. This is amazing!” 

Catrine blushed at this, with a smile spreading across her face. “You’re so silly, Holt”

When Holt stepped in the kitchen, it was almost like stepping into a french-styled section of IKEA. “Holy sh– I mean, shoot.” 

Catrine laughed. “It's okay, you flatter me, Holt.”

Holt was so fixated on her house he didn’t realize Catrine was talking to him until he finally looked at her. 

She was wearing a loose tank that had a sunshine with a smiley face, and thin joggers, her luscious hair put up in a ponytail, leaving some strands hanging out. She was a little sweaty, but smelt as sweet as a rose.

“Holt, is it okay if you stay while I wash up? I was exercising before you came. Feel free to… how you say, explore.” 

“Alright.” 

“Do not go in the bathroom upstairs because that is where I will be.” Holt let out a little chuckle and nodded.

Catrine’s English was progressing each and every day thanks to the immersion programs she was in. Holt liked to think he played a bigger role, though. Deciding  _ not  _ to imagine her bare body just upstairs, he decided to look around. He took a peak in her boxes. Some of them had loads of paintings, others had handmade clothes, and the rest furniture she had yet to set up. He thought it was cute that she had pictures of her mother country. He went upstairs. There was a bedroom, a closet, and, of course, the bathroom he heard her hum in. 

He froze at the sound of her voice. He was tempted to take a peek but somehow restrained himself. He took a look at the bedroom. After all, she was just a friend and he was not about to be the weird guy.

The bed seemed to be just set up, along with a fresh night stand. She had a television propped up on her wall with a yoga mat facing towards it and dumbbells alongside of it.

He went in the closet next to her room, and it had boxes, pillows, and blankets. He had almost completed his search. Now it was time for the living room downstairs, along with two empty rooms. The living room was mostly empty, except for a couple of chairs with a flatscreen above a fireplace that looked like it had just been installed.

Holt heard her open the door. “Holt, could you do something for me?” 

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” He walked up the stairs to see her fresh body covered in towels as a door kept him from seeing anything else. 

“Could you please get me some clothes out of my room? It’s the one on the left that’s sitting on my bed.” 

“A-alright” Holt stuttered, shuffling his legs.

He hurried to pick her clothes, and saw that it was a cropped tank with music notes and sweatpants. He handed it to her. Catrine took them and then frowned. “Oh…also… how do I say this?”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” 

Catrine’s face turned bright pink. “My underwear, it was above the clothes you handed me..” She seemed ashamed. 

Holt blushed as well. “It’s alright. I’ll get it for you.” She smiled as Holt went into her room again.

He had never craved her as much until now. He grabbed her thong and thin bra as he tried to think of anything but sex, and headed back to her. “Thank you so much” she added and closed the door.

As she walked out, Holt had to wipe the drool that had come out of his mouth. “Damn, you are beautiful.” 

“Oh my goodness, thank you.” She blushed. Holt couldn’t stop staring at her. He decided to go for the first move.

As they looked at each other, Holt caressed her cheek with his hand, brushing her hair out of her face. Catrine giggled. “Come on, let’s start cooking. I was thinking of making a peasant dish all week: etouffee.” 

As they got the crayfish, rice, sauces, vegetables, and cooking utensils out, Holt would give her compliments on her strength, beauty, and her house. Catrine started cutting up the vegetables while Holt would open up containers and occasionally help out with the cutting, and peeling the previously boiled crayfish.

After she put the rice in the cooker, Catrine started to add the butter and vegetables to a pan. As she stirred, Holt slowly inched up behind her, surrounding her waist with his arms, bringing his hands all the way around, his hardened crotch pressed up against her bottom. Catrine lets out a tiny gasp, immediately turning Holt on.

He began kissing her neck, sucking on it, sinking all four of his canines under a thin layer of skin that was just enough to create a hickey with four red marks without bleeding. Catrine gasped as she felt the sting, the dragging and ripping of her skin, but it pleased her.

Catrine almost forgot what she was doing when the rice cooker started beeping. Holt walked out of position to turn it off. Catrine looked down and blushed to see his boner, clear for her to see. The crayfish were ready to be added to the pan. Catrine added them in and stirred it up. In a few minutes, the meal was ready.

Holt set the small round table. Catrine fixed the plates and went ahead and sat down at her one-chaired table. “Holt, there is another chair in the living room.”

He went to get the chair and put it right next to Catrine’s, facing it towards her chair. “I’m sorry about earlier, I should really stop giving into my urges.” 

“Holt… although it startled me at first, I did enjoy it.” They both blushed at each other, not even bothering to eat. They touched lips immediately.

Catrine’s lips were as soft as a flower petal, exactly how Holt had imagined them. Holt grabbed her waist and pulled her close while Catrine’s hands were pressed on his cheeks and her legs wrapped around his torso, ready to be carried off.

This was the greatest day of his life. As they made out, Holt’s lips moved down to her neck, then to her chest, while his hands gently moved down to reintroduce themselves to her thong he had grabbed earlier. His fingers reached to pull the hip parts of the underwear. She let out a moan, leaving Holt fascinated, he stopped gripping on the thong and instead, brought his hands back to her waist. He stopped kissing her.

“What’s wrong?”

Holt was just fixated on her face. He smiled, “You make me so happy, Catrine. You don’t even know.” 

“I think I do, Holt Hyde.” Catrine replied, sitting up on his lap. Holt went back in for a kiss only to be met with her hand. She laid her head on his shoulder. “Holt, I noticed how stressed you have been. Is there something wrong?” 

Holt laughed nervously, “Stressed? Me? No. Is it getting hot in here or is it just me?” He struggled to unbutton his shirt, wanting her sex more than ever.

Catrine laughed as he finally managed to pull it off as she set her head back on his shoulder, him now rubbing her back. He sighed. “Catrine… I haven’t been honest with you.” He continued to rub her back, inserting his hand under her shirt. “Have you been watching the news, or any talk shows?” 

“Maybe once a week, why?” 

“I was there. Some of my songs got leaked, and I blew up overnight.” Catrine seemed to have no reaction. 

“That’s why you were stressed out? You could have told me earlier. I would have supported you!” 

Holt was let down but relieved. “I’m sorry, I just… it’s too much pressure for me, especially when people find out who I actually am. The truth is… I’m scared. I already was almost killed a year ago for being framed for vandalism.” 

She gasped. “Why would they kill you for vandalization?” 

“Because it was those dumbass normies and their stupid cops.” 

Catrine saw he was getting tense and hugged him again and noticed a scar on his stomach as Holt stood up to carry her to the bed. “What happened?” Her tiny hands pointed to his ancient injury.

“Oh, that… was an accident.” He groaned as he carried her up the steps. Catrine started to tear up.

“You okay?” 

“It wasn’t.” 

“What?” 

“It wasn’t an accident. I can tell from your voice. You did that on purpose!” 

As Holt placed her on the bed she slapped him, taking Holt by surprise. “Don’t do that! I care about you!” He removed her clothes off of the bed, took off his shoes and rolled his eyes as she ranted.

“Catrine, listen I was going through some shit. I was embarrassed, stressed, drunk.” He sat next to her. 

“Please, don’t do that again.” She hugged him, this time, knocking him to the pillows. She layed on top of him, kissing him repeatedly, hoping it would cure all his miseries.

His hands, foolishly floating, not knowing what to grab hold of, quickly found their place on her back, slowly pulling her little shirt up again. He felt like Manny, given how big his hands were compared to her tiny body.

He had successfully pulled her shirt off her head without ruining the mood, as he usually did, but this time, he felt pressured, he had never been with a ghoul this beautiful.

She placed her hands on his earbuds and started to pull. “No!” His red eyes brightened for a second, “Not those.” He said regaining his calm attitude, forcing her hands away.

Catrine let go. “Ah, sorry. May I ask why?” 

There was a quick pause until Holt finally came up with something, “It’s a good song.” Catrine did not pry; only giggled.

His eyes kept her from wanting to know anymore.

Holt took his leg and flipped her, immediately changing positions from being on the bottom to being on top of her. He held her hands to the top of her head and used his other to unbuckle her bra. She looked uncomfortable. “Are you alright? You look nervous.” 

“I’ve never really done this before.” Holt sat up, but stayed on top of her.  _ She’s a virgin. Of course she is! I don’t want to do this to her like this... but I also don’t want to leave her alone.  _ “Holt, what's wrong?” She sat up as well, her legs around his.

“Catrine, I think we should do this another time. I don’t think you’re-“ he paused, “we’re ready.” He laid next to her, his legs no longer separating hers. Catrine got into the covers rather quickly, and motioned him to join. “Catrine, I don’t know. I don’t want to ruin your new sheets. I’m all dirty.” 

“No, it’s okay. I can wash!” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.”

He looked at her in a doubtful way before brightening up. “Whatever you say” He slipped his pants, but made sure to keep his boxers on. “So, you like living alone?” He asked, pulling the covers over him. 

Catrine sighed. “Yes? Not really. Ever since I moved, I’ve been greeted by memories of my family when they were still alive. I never knew what they were like. I just know they loved me just as much as I loved them. I live under the state as a transfer student now.” 

Holt almost jolted to this, knowing he had another thing in common with her, but also remembering that dead parents were a bad thing. “Ya know, my parents died too, but maybe not as kindly as yours might have.” 

“Really?” 

“Really. My dad killed my mom, then killed himself.” Catrine’s face turned into regret from asking. “Too much?” 

Catrine laughed. “No. It’s okay. My parents and family actually disappeared and left me all their money and a note. I can’t tell you what it says.” 

Holt got his begging face on. “Come on…” 

“No!” 

“Fine.”   
  


Later that night, Holt would twist and turn, spoon Catrine, and let Catrine spoon him. He left for the bathroom and came back to what had seemed to be an hour, the half-asleep Catrine opened her eyes as best she could at him. “You really needed to pee, didn't you?” 

Holt smirked. “Something like that...” He snuggled close to her again, he felt softer than before.

He couldn’t sleep. He was having nightmare after nightmare, position after position. Catrine eventually put her hand on his and kissed him, and it was enough to send him fast asleep.


	11. A New Face

**Jackson** woke up in a bed that wasn’t his with his hand stretched out and touching what felt to be a woman’s hip.  _ Shocker. _ He looked to his left to see the mysterious girl sleeping next to him.  _ Oh god damn it, who is it now? _ Jackson felt a sense of calmness radiate from inside of him.  _ Really? _ He slowly inched his hand away from her hip, but the girl started to move. Jackson was getting prepared to hear a lot of screaming.

Catrine opened her eyes to a new boy in her bed. She screamed and fell off. She stood up almost immediately and hid her bra with her shirt that was on the ground, grabbed a hanger next to it, and acted like it was a weapon. “Who are you?” 

“Um… Jackson…” he said as he lowered the hanger with his finger. “It appears that Holt didn’t inform you about me… again.” He muttered the last word but Catrine picked up on it. 

“What do you mean?” she asked angrily, still gripping onto the hanger. 

“I'm his other personality, see. When you play music, you will see him again, but I guess his icoffin died, so that’s why I’m here.” Catrine was extremely confused, and continued to stare angrily at the man. 

“This is awkward… Alright, do you have a radio somewhere?” Jackson stood up and began searching the room. Catrine refused to respond; she must have thought he was insane. 

Jackson sighed, “Listen, you don’t want me here, I don’t want to be here, why don’t you help me, so I can help you, alright?”

“Fine.” 

“Thank you!” Jackson blurted out, relieved. “So, who are you?” 

“Catrine.” 

Jackson's blue eyes widened rather quickly and he turned around. “So that’s who Holt was texting…” he mumbled. 

“How do you know Holt was texting me?” she asked nervously.

“We have the same phone,” Jackson answered stiffly, showing his dead iCoffin. Catrine sniffed, unconvinced, and wandered towards the TV. 

As she flipped channels to find the music stations, Jackson tried to make more small talk with the mysterious woman. “So, how did you meet Holt?” 

“I am an exchange student from France, you see?” 

“Yeah, I can hear the accent.” 

“He helped teach me English.” 

“Of course he would.” Jackson sighed. “How did he get here? In your bed?” 

“Well, I asked him to come over to cook with...” Catrine’s eyes widened. “To cook with me!” Jackson was confused as he watched her run out of the room, downstairs

A few minutes later, she returned. She looked disappointed. “I left it out all night. Now it’s not good.” 

“Well, I’m very sorry about that.” She pouted as she began flipping the channels again. 

“So did he, uh,  _ do it  _ with you?” Catrine blushed. 

“Why would you like to know?” 

“Because he sleeps with women all the time!” Jackson regretted what he had said. Catrine dropped the remote.

“What?” Her beautiful blue eyes were now drowned with confusion. 

“I mean, he may have changed, but all I’m saying is not to get too comfortable with him.” They were both silent. She finally changed the channel to a rap station, and the voice seemed familiar. 

Jackson awkwardly waved goodbye before bowing in pain. A red glare appeared and the handsome blue man rose from the flames once again.


	12. Mistakes

**Catrine** hugged him as she cried. Holt looked at the familiar song on her screen. “Oh no.” It was one of his hit songs,  _ Unstable Heartbeat, _ which was Holt’s least favorite, having to do with most of his issues.

“Holt, I had no idea.” He felt like he was in a nightmare. 

“I know, I know.” He patted her back. Catrine tore away. 

“You’re such a jerk!” Holt was immediately lost. “I can’t believe I actually thought you cared for me!” Holt was at a loss as Catrine continuously hit his chest with her tiny fists. 

“But I wrote those songs before I even met you!” 

Catrine paused. “What? No, not that you idiot!” Holt’s pupils shrunk, and his eyes started to glow. 

He was known for being a hothead. Even people he really cared about would get their butts kicked.

But instead of blowing her socks off, he simply sighed and closed his eyes before she could see. “What did he tell you?”

“Everything! You were just using me, no? Helping me and making me laugh and pretending to be my friend!”

“What are you talking about Catrine? I would never-”

“You sleep with other girls! But… you didn’t have sex with me… why? Do you hate me?”

“Calm Down! Listen, I was lost, I was doing everything I shouldn’t. I drank, I smoked, and yes, I did... a lot of girls…” Catrine snarled at this. “I hate to sound cheesy, but… ever since we started fanging out, something changed inside of me… and not to sound cliché, but I want to be more than friends!”

Catrine was mollified. “I want to forgive you Holt, and I will be your ghoulfriend if you’re asking, but after what I just heard, it’s going to take time. Do not rush this.” Holt was disappointed, but understood. 

“Alright, do you want me to leave?” There was a long pause. “Well?” Holt added. 

“I don’t know. I don’t want you to.” Catrine hugged him again, now feeling at his back.

“I’ll stay then.”


	13. Good Morning

**It** was Friday once more, and Holt drove to school with the biggest smile on his face as Catrine rode next to him, turning stations, listening. 

He pulled into the school’s parking lot, and turned off the engine. Him and Catrine kissed goodbye, and stepped out of the car, Holt locking it with his keys, and wishing her a good day.

As Holt walked into the school, he saw a poster, decorated with the school’s colors: pink, black, and blue.

_ Track Tryouts! _

_ Doomsday Distance Runners and Screaming Sprinters needed! _

_ Tuesdays and Fridays After school _

_ If you have the strength and commitment, be there! _

Holt sighed. “Alright, we’ll try something new,” he told himself.

“Hey!”

A mysterious voice krept out of the dark. The brunet wolf appeared, her clothes looked like they were made by the most expensive company in the world. “Oh, hey Clawdeen. Love the clothes!” Holt looked her up and down and smirked. She blushed. “Thankd, I designed ‘em myself.” He smiled at her as she shyly twisted her hair with her fingers. “Well anyway, did you want to sign up?” 

“Uh, sure.” She handed him a clipboard with a pen that had a fuzzy tip. “Sign right under here, wouldn't want you on the ghoul’s track!” she laughed with confidence as she pointed to a slot filled with names even Holt didn’t recognize. “And this is for Distance or the whole thing?” 

“Oh! Sorry! What did you want to be in?” 

“Uh, I guess Distance?”

Clawdeen jumped with excitement. “That’s the best one! Here,” she flipped up the first page to reveal a sheet titled  _ Distance _ with the fewest number of names. 

“You sure this is the best? There’s barely anyone on here.” 

Clawdeen gave a look, and when she gave people that look, they know they said something that deserves a magazine to the face.

“The size of the team doesn’t matter; only the size of commitment you put into winning. Seriously, think about that.” She took the clipboard back, and playfully bopped the top of his head with it. “Remember, you meet the coach after school! His office is the door passing locker room.”

She walked back into the ghoul’s locker room next to him. He overheard her say “we have a new teammate, coach!” Holt smiled at this.

A little later in the day, the bell rang for second hour. Holt took off for his favorite class, music theory.

Him and Jackson have a half schedule, Holt in the morning, Jack in the afternoon, due to the fact that last year, after classes in the afternoon, Holt would run off to God knows where, leaving the school in concern for his safety and well being. But since Holt was joining a sport, there would probably be a shift. 

But how would both be able to play a sport during 7th hour if they’re the same person?


	14. A New Invention

“ **Oh** , thank the Nile you’re here, Holt! I was starting to think you were going to skip again!” Cleo was a beautiful mummy, daughter of Pharaoh Ramses de Nile, who was Holt’s music theorist partner and former friend of last year. Holt rubbed his hand on the back of his neck and sighed,

“Sorry about that. How’s Ghoulia?” 

Her eyes began to sparkle, along with her diamond beauty mark. “Glad you asked! Ghoulia was actually working on her latest… machine thing.”

”Yeah? What’s it about?”

“Well, you know how you’ve always said you wanted to see Jackson, and meet him up?” 

“ _Beat_ him up,” he corrected her, only half-joking. Cleo was unmoved.

“Yes, well... Ghoulia is working on a machine to separate you two, so you won’t have anymore trouble with always constantly having to listen to music…” she began talking in a baby voice, touching his face. “Your poor ears must be so tired.” 

He swished her hand away, “But I love listening to music… A-and what would happen to Jackson? Without me, he’ll just be a regular normie!” 

“Exactly!” She exclaimed. 

“No!” Holt didn’t know what to think, he was relieved, and furious. “Cleo, I don’t know about this…” 

“Fine, have it your way and stay like this forever.”

“Couldn’t I check it out first?” 

“Oh. my. Ra! It’ll be perfect! I’ll grab the ghouls and growls and after we could head to the mall and- and…” she glanced at him, Holt was confused once more, “Holt is it just me or are you getting more mature! You’ve grown up so well! I’ve spent thousands of years just to get this marvelous as I am and to see you at seventeen years old, maturing so fast! Oh Holt, hold me I think I’m about to faint!” 

He rolled his eyes as he held his hands out. “You always be like this?”

“Oh yes, I am!” she said dramatically. Holt laughed.

  
As second hour ended, Cleo and Holt walked out together, Cleo still talking, Holt’s eyes explained everything. “And then we’ll go to my house — and listen to this: I got hands on my dad's secret stash!” She was expecting Holt to scream at the sound of that, but nothing. 

“Oh Gods, Holt, you really did mature fast. You know, Rum, Scotch, even that strong wine I always talk about, and your favorite type of whiskey, Bourbon! Anyway, you’d be over the pyramids to hear this, all my forty-eight guest bedrooms are open tonight because my dad’s out of town, that means it’s bonus night, if you catch my drift!” She nudged him, yet no reaction. “Really? You and Frankie? Deuce and I? Draculaura and-” 

Holt stopped her: “Wait a damn minute, Frankie didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Cleo put her hands to her hips and pouted. 

“That bitch!” he yelled. “Listen, I broke up with her like a week or two ago! I moved on! Besides, I’m dating someone else.”

Cleo moved from confusion to interest. “Ooh, and who’s the lucky girl this time?” She asked as she looked up and down at him and smiled. 

“Catrine Demew. She’s an exchange student.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet her!”

“Thanks for being supportive, Cleo, it really helps.”

“Meet us in the catacombs at 6 tonight, then we’ll take off from there, remember to bring the new ghoul!”

“Okay!” He replied and left for his next class.


	15. New Beginnings

**It** was time; 7th hour had ended. Jackson put his earbuds on, he felt as if he had nothing to do, so he let Holt take over. Holt stopped by Coach Fang’s office, where he sat with his fishing hat over his face. He coughed to get his attention, and the coach jumped to his feet, his hat flying to his head. 

“Oh! You must be new! Are you running distance?”

“Yes.” 

“Weren’t you in claws country?” 

“Uh. Didn’t really think of this sports thing until now.” The coach glared at him. 

“Well, here’s a lock, your locker number is 44. Your code is 8 33 22. Don’t forget that. Good luck!” He smiled with irony.

_Holt: Catrine, I’ll come back for you, I’m trying out for a sport, head to the ghoul’s coffin room, and I’ll make sure to get you afterwards._

Holt entered the growl’s locker room, shielding his eyes, expecting to see penises everywhere. He slowly built up the courage to look, and there were barely any boys even in there. He let out a sigh of relief as he tried to find his locker. He came out to the track and saw Clawdeen waiting for him.

Toralei wisped out of the bleachers to see Holt standing on the track, shirtless with some cheap black shorts and tennis shoes he had borrowed from the coach that seemed to be bought at the local sports shop that looked a good two years old. He had never played a sport before, but he was used to staying in proper shape to look like he was in one. 

“Who’s she?” he asked Clawdeen in a whispered tone. 

“ _Who is she?_ ” she laughed “She is the best we’ve ever had at Monster High, Toralei’s the name; broke all our sports’ records, even the boys’ records with a mile time of 3:29.3!”

“Damn, that’s good! She must be training to be a skullympian!” 

“Or so we thought, she’s actually trying to beat all the schools that piss her off the most.”

Holt deadpanned. “Ah. That bitch.”

Toralei let out a meow as she walked towards them. “Who’s the hottie with the tattoo on his back?”

“Back off, he’s taken.” Clawdeen growled. 

Holt sniffed. “Hey, I’m not a baby, I can talk for myself.”

“Yeah Clawdeen, let the poor man speak!” She said sarcastically as she caressed his back. 

Holt allowed her to do so. “Hey, baby. I’m Holt, Holt Hyde.” He smiled his best to impress her, but all he got in return was laughing.

“You don’t think I know who you are? You’re that famous dude who wrote those sad puppy songs!” she snickered. “What are you doing here anyway?” 

Holt’s good mood vanished. He scowled. “Tryouts are today, aren’t they?” 

Toralei let out another laugh. That bitch, indeed. “Well, I gotta catch you later. Meowlody and Pursephone need me at the graveball field stat. Bye Holty-Poo, it was nice meeting you. And good luck, you’ll need it.” She laughed again, jarring Holt’s ears, then disappeared almost immediately.

“Okay, well she’s an asshole.” Holt said harshly with his arms crossed, his eyebrows far from lifted. “A real piece of work.” Clawdeen pouted in reponse, but said nothing. “So, where’s everyone else?” Holt asked, trying to distract himself from getting angry again. 

“I don’t know, they should be here though…” Clawdeen answered, flipping through her clipboard. Then, almost a second later, her pupils became as tiny as a flea. “Oh my ghoul! It’s on the other track!” She grabbed Holt’s hand, instantly sending him flying.


	16. Out of Breath

**A** whistle blows, six boys and five girls rush up to meet Coach Fang, including Holt. “I’ll call out names just to see if everyone signed up properly, don't say here, just tell me if I missed anyone. Invisi Billy, Manny Taur, Sloman Mortavitch, Don of the Dead, Eyera Banks, and Holt Hyde. That was all the guys, did I miss any?” Every boy responded with a no and others in zombie language. 

“Girls are Toralei Stripe- wait, she’s already on the team who put her on here?” 

“I did” Toralei appeared from behind him, her tail swishing with confidence. “I know I’m already good, I just love seeing the new guys do it!’ Everyone groaned “Hey, cheer up!” she spat.

“Well, anyway... Clawdeen Wolf, Draculaura, Gory Fangtell, Cleo De Nile and Frankie Stein. Everyone here? —okay. let’s get this show on the road.”

“Wait, what?” Holt looked at the coach in an _I don’t want to be here anymore_ way while the coach gave the _me neither_ look back. “Give me a break,” he grumbled, sulking off to Cleo. She was captain of the fearleaders. She would know what to do..

Holt slowly scooted over to Cleo, hoping Frankie wouldn’t see him. “Why the fuck is she here?”

“Fearleaders have to do track, remember?” Holt stared blankly at her as she rolled her eyes, “It’s our off time, obviously!” She whispered. Holt shot her a death stare, but looked up again when there was another whistle blown.

The assistant coach walked up to all of them. “Hello everyone! I'm Coach Crock, and I’m the assistant coach, soon to be the ghouls coach! Today’s tryouts will be 4 laps around half of the school, starting and ending here. That’s exactly 4 miles.” People began to whisper, and Holt leaned towards Clawdeen.

“A four miler? For time trials? I think the fuck not.” 

“Well you should, Monster High is one of the best schools in the nation when it comes to our sports, so of course we’ll train hard.”

“Quiet everyone! It will be timed, of course. Top 3 girls will make the team, whilst the boys at top 4. We will know if you cheat, remember, we have eyes everywhere.” Toralei glanced at everyone with the most annoying know-it-all smile.

“On the whistle. And-” the whistle blew. They all took off, Slomo and Don basically walking. Holt started out slow, while Toralei slowed down to get close to him. “Look Holt, I know what you’re trying to do,” she said, her breath getting heavier as she spoke. 

“Alright, listen, I only joined this sport to improve some things, alright!” 

“Only if that were true!” She takes a break to catch her breath, as they both passed the three girls, Holt hiding his face with his hand from Frankie the best he can. “I’d probably believe you!” she continued angrily.

Holt began picking up his pace, passing two other girls, along with one boy, thinking if he did that it would be the end of this pointless conversation, “You’re tryna beat my records!” she exclaimed, rushing to keep up with him. 

“What… are… you talking about… Torn-lie?” Holt asked out of breath.

“My name’s Toralei, idiot.”

“Whatever!”

“I know what you are Holt. You’re not just a monster, you’re a superhuman! Created by science!” She proudly told him. “That’s right, I’m smart too!” She stuck her tongue out.

“Alright, well maybe I do want to beat your stupid record! Just you watch, I’ll become the best runner anyone’s ever seen, and they’ll forget all about your smartass!” 

Toralei became impressed with Holt’s competitive attitude, “Is that so?” she scoffed, Holt assuring her by using his evil grin.

“You fuckin’ bet.”

“Alright, pretty boy, let’s make that a challenge!” She hissed, speeding up, eventually making Holt lose sight of her.

“Hey! We still got three… laps to do…” he yelled as he passed another boy. It was Manny. Holt was tempted to make fun of him, but he had to resist, but he just couldn’t! He had to!

He turned around as he ran backwards, “Hey, Manny, mad that a half-dork took your place? You’re a football player who just got passed by someone who hasn’t even ran in their lives. What a fat ass!” Manny’s face turned bright red as Holt laughed. Holt turned around and began to speed up, Manny followed faster as they passed two other boys.

“Wait, you’re not even an ass, you’re a cow! That’s why you’re so thick!” He scoffed. Manny became so pissed, he began to take after him, Holt laughing while he constantly almost got his neck stuck in between Manny’s giant hands. 

“God damn it, Hyde!” 

“Oh, what’s this?” They had entered the school parking lot, where there were stop signs almost everywhere a student could look. 

The signs were so beat up and vandalized that even the school stopped replacing and caring for them. Monster High also offered Drivers Dread to monsters learning how to drive.

“Look at this, Manny!” He grabbed a stop sign right out of the ground, thankfully not ripping the strength he needed for the rest of the run. He held the sign up, and ran as fast as monsterly possible as Manny exploded with speed.

“I’m gonna catch you and you’re gonna regret it, you little shit!” Manny’s eyes were now filled with the color red, the color he hated, and all he knew was rage.

Holt was wasting his breath on laughter not realizing Manny was right behind him. His smile slackened fast, and eyes widened as he looked back to see the jacked minotaur charging towards him, faster than ever before. Soon enough, the second lap was finished, and they passed the third faster than a ghost could say boo. 

Eventually, Manny burnt out, and fell behind, Holt felt just as energized as Marisol. He had one more person to pass up, and that was Toralei.

She constantly looked behind to see the red eyed boy gaining on her, with a grin on his face and a leap in his stride. Holt was ready, excited, prepared. As the gap between them and the finish closed in, Holt had one last look at her before sprinting as fast as possible. “Siyonara, bitch!” he yelled, passing her, passing the line in which they started, feeling completed. 

He could barely hear, his ears pounding, he did hear a low faint voice telling him “29.53 for a four miler! I think that’s a record!” He felt Coach Fang pat his back and something cold and heavy surrounding his neck. He could barely see, everything in his vision was bright and fuzzy, his throat was dry and filled with mucus that made it difficult to breathe. His calves bulging, his feet felt as if they were on fire. He choked and wheezed but laughed knowing he beat the girl who annoyed him most.

“Why” he breathed deeply, “the hell” he choked, “does anyone do this shit?” He coughed harshly, again.

“That, Mister Hyde, is something you need to discover on your own.” Coach Fang said with a smile on his face, 

“What’s… on my neck?” Holt was hyperventilating at this point. 

“A towel dipped in ice. It’ll help you.” Holt said nothing. Coach continued: “Now Hyde, I want you to continue this running, and you will be known as one of the greatest athletes in our school’s history! I want you on this team immediately! You need to compete with our fastest boy, Clawd Wolf.”

Holt rolled his eyes. _Of course he does track._

“Come back to the track Monday afternoon, alright? I’ll have a talk with Clawd that 7th hour.”


	17. Fame

**After** his talk with the coach, Holt went into the shower room, bringing a bag with his clothes and the soap he needed for his hair and his body. He had sweat to his inner core, the most running he had ever done in his life.

Holt, as a child, would occasionally get chased by the cops by stealing from homeless people or throwing fists at the nearest salesman. “Halt!” The cops would scream, giving him the idea of his name. He never really knew why, but he’d always thought that he’d heard that name before. He would never get caught because he’d always disappear. He was known for being the little demon or as some elders put it, “little shit.”

He watched as the water trickled down to his feet.

After he finished washing up, he dried off, combed his hair, and put on a white tee with graffiti art all over it, grey Adidas sweatpants that he couldn’t help but draw fire from his legs was painted up to his knees and had an inappropriate message written on his bulge, white socks and some old black J’s with a little spray paint design on them that he got last year as a Valentines gift from Frankie. He was feeling confident, like he had just won the Skullympics. He grabbed hold of his bag, and off he went, to pick up Catrine.

As he was looking at his phone, he had read the message Catrine sent him earlier for the seventh time:

_Catrine: Good luck, champ! I will stay where you told me._

His heart had skipped a beat. “ _Good luck, champ…_ Man, I love this girl!” He whispered. He ran up the stairs to the dorm rooms, trying to show off like he used to do last year. 

He knocked on the girls dorm as he usually did, and all the laughter and gossip he had heard in the room went silent. He heard tiny whispers of girls excitedly exclaiming, “It's a boy!” And as Holt heard the girls guesses basing off the knock if it was really him to each other, he heard a shush, and then silence. He smirked. The door opened a crack, and a face appeared where the crack was. It was a fawn and her name was Isi. Her eyes widened as Holt smiled and slammed the door. Holt tried to stop himself from laughing as he heard her yell, “it’s Holt!” And all the girls got up and moved around followed by a lot of shushing. She opened the door again, her hair now in a messy bun, her eyes and lips doused in mascara and lip gloss. “Come in!” She widened the gap between the door and its frame to reveal girls who Holt could tell were previously dressed, were now dressing once more and showing off the black lace bras they had gotten a day or two ago. 

He tried to shield his eyes to be polite, but he couldn’t help himself. “Damn, girls!” He exclaimed with a rough yet seductive voice. They all giggled, wanting to scream with excitement.

“Y’all know where Catrine is? I told her to be here.”

“Oh, is she your new bitcj?” one of the girls had said, she was a young wolf with auburn skin, and bright pink short hair, 

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Holt added.

She rolled her eyes and pointed to a bunk Catrine was under at the very end of the room. She was distracted, looking at her iCoffin, earbuds in her ears, she had been there for a long while.

Holt looked over at the girls, and put his finger to his lips, only making the girls love him even more. He walked over to where Catrine was laying, her eyeshadow shining off the blue light of her phone.

He counted to three in his head as he slowly got his hands ready to surprise Catrine, and cradle her. Then, he quickly shoved his hands under her, and picked her up with such a force. She began to scream until she laid eyes on Holt’s face.

The girls began to laugh along with Catrine, as others would joke that they wish they were her. “Don’t do that ever again, jerk!” She laughed as she hugged him tight around the shoulders. 

“Alright, ready to go to a place you never thought of?” He asked as he exited the room, continuously almost tripping over girls’ clothes.

“And where’s that?”

“The underground!” He responded in a growling voice, trying to make it seem scary but he only made it cute. He picked up his bag and headed towards the elevator.

“You always make me laugh, Holt.”


	18. Happy Howl

**Instead** of going towards the car, he stayed in the school, taking the elevator down to the third lowest level, letting Catrine down. “Alright, you haven’t met my friends yet, so we’re gonna go ahead and do that!”

“But why are they all underground? What if they don’t like me? What if I-”

“Hey! Listen, my friends are the most welcoming monsters you will ever meet, so you’ll be fine. Anyway, One of my friends is a genius. She’s making this machine that could possibly separate Jackson and I.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” The elevator became awkwardly silent, the only noise was coming from the beeps of the floors they were passing. 

“Not really, but-” the elevator doors opened to reveal a dark area with little light that pointed toward a huge machine with ten teens that were once looking at it, now all turned to face them. Cleo, Deuce, Clawdeen, Clawd, Draculaura, Gil, Lagoona, Abbey, Ghoulia, and Frankie were all looking at Holt and the new ghoul. Frankie quickly looked back to the machine, Holt cringed at the sight of her, thinking about every moment in time when he was in bed with her. He quickly put an arm around Catrine. Frankie was embarrassed with herself, Lagoona beginning to comfort her.

Catching sight of Catrine, Cleo squealed dramatically, and began to run up to her. “Oh my Ra! You are even prettier than I thought you’d be! Maybe even close to as pretty as me!” She gasped as she grabbed a mirror that was stuffed in her expensive purse. “Yep. I’m still better, but you’re adorable!” 

Noticing a familiar mark on her neck, Cleo whispered something into Holt’s ear as Holt nodded his head. “Oh, come here!” she hugged Catrine, not wanting to let go.

“Oh, thank you! You are very nice. I can see why you’re Holt’s friend!” She giggled as Cleo squeezed her. 

“And she’s nice, too? Holt, you’ve gotten really lucky.”

“They just broke up, remember?” Ghoulia had limped to Cleo to place her hand on her shoulder. She gestured to Frankie. Cleo faced Frankie, who had been wanting to leave out of pure anxiety out of the awkwardness that was to come. “Oh, um. Yes, well. Eh...”

“Alright, well, Ghoulia! This is an excellent machine you've made!” Deuce said, trying to make things less awkward. Ghoulia moaned a thank you and limped to the machine as Holt, Catrine, and Cleo followed.

Ghoulia moaned. _Slaydies and gentlemen, I introduce you to a contraption so powerful, it can separate people who are fused together! Such as Holt and Jackson!_

Catrine leaned to Holt and whispered, “Do you know what she’s saying?” 

“Yeah, here, I’ll write it down.” He pulled a gum wrapper out of his pocket and a pen out of the other and started to write.

As she read, Holt would recite what Ghoulia would say by whispering it to her while occasionally having brain pains, stumbling on his words trying to remember a certain moan or groan. Draculaura watched as Holt whispered, and squeaked as quietly as possible, “So cute!”

After a few minutes of discussion of who’s going to get drunk first, and jokes like who’s going to be the one that accidentally gets pregnant, Cleo jumped with excitement.

”Alright, I have my daddy’s limo. Who wants in?” 

Draculaura joined in, “I got Dad’s booze! And I got the birth control pills, _and_ condoms that aren’t broken this time.” Clawd laughed nervously as he glanced at Draculaura. Lagoona pointed up with her finger.

”And I brought the food, and don’t worry, this time, it’s from Growlbertsons!” 

“And I brought no sign of Heath!” joked Abbey. They all laughed. 

“Um… I brought our favorite board game!” Frankie finally added, scared Holt would say something to her. He did not.

“And uh… I brought my shower supplies.” Holt said. Again, they laughed.

“Was I supposed to bring something?” Catrine asked, concernedly.

“Of course not, love!” Lagoona replied kindly. 

“Are we all set?” Cleo asked. They all held up their bags, ready to go.

As they all took turns jumping in the vehicle, a servant that was opening the door asked for each of their keys. The car was held up by some of Cleo’s loyal servants. The inside was like a party bus, Holt had been in plenty to know this, it had stripper poles and strobe lights everywhere. There were two alcohol cupboards filled to the brim with all of their favorites. Even Catrine could drink red wine or a martini mix. 

There were extra bikinis stuffed in a bag that was attached to the car from Nefera, her sister, from her last visit to the beach with friends. Holt cringed as he tried not to let his thoughts carry him away with the skimpy swimwear. The couples started to lap dance each other, while the others found their own way to have fun by posting pictures of themselves on Ribstagram, or chatting with their crushes. Frankie, on the other hand, watched as Holt and Catrine talked to each other, Holt hugged her for comfort and warmth.

It was extremely unusual to see Holt so calm and comforting in a scenario like this, he’d usually make out with everyone, dance seductively, and somehow sneak his way into having sex with whoever he’s with, infront of everyone, without even a single person noticing.

“Hey, Cleo?” Holt shouted as the music played. 

“Yes?” she responded, her hands on Deuce’s shoulders as her legs wrapped around him. 

“What are we gonna do about our cars?”

“Don’t worry. My _ubshati_ will take care of it!” She moaned as Deuce grasped her butt.

When they arrived at the mansion, they unloaded their things and began finding their rooms. “It won’t be hard, because there’s exactly forty eight rooms containing a bathroom, a hot tub, and get this ghouls, a spa area! Twenty of those rooms are master rooms, that are the only rooms that contain a bar with food made by the best chefs, so just choose those! And if some of you want to get spicy, I have a four mummy bed located at the back of the house.”

“Oh my ghoul, Cleo, this is amazing!” Catrine cheered, holding Holt’s hand, getting ready to race to a room. “Thank you! Now hurry off before the first room is taken!”


	19. Young Lovers

**They** rushed up the stairs, playfully pushing each other and betting who’d be the first one in. As they opened the door to their room, both of their mouths fell wide open.

The room was lit with dark pink, with smooth jazz music playing, with the bed overlooking a giant pool that was outside. “It’s like a hotel room!” Holt said, taking off his earbuds.

“Yes, but better!” Catrine added.

They turned to each other and said at the same time, “Dibs on the hot tub!” There was silence before they laughed. 

“I don’t think I brought my trunks…”

“And I didn’t bring anything…” Catrine added with a sarcastic tone. 

“Ya know, you and I could always… skinny dip.” Holt said jokingly with a seductive tone, looking up and down at her, licking the top of his teeth, ready to see her expose her petite body. She blushed, not knowing whether to trust him. Holt backtracked instantly. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

“No, I want to… it’s just…” Catrine sighed. “Get me some wine.”

“Alright!”

He walked to the speaker and connected his iCoffin, Catrine went into the bathroom to undress. He picked the song he always got on to and headed to the clean top bar to pull out some fresh Bourbon and the finest red wine there was out of the tiny fridge from under. He got a wine and whiskey glass, and poured away. He then grabbed all that he could, the bottles and the two glasses, and walked towards the hot tub.

He began to glare at the door Catrine was in. His teeth became sharp as he smiled. His veins started to show before quickly fading away. His pupils shrunk back as he shook his head. He rubbed his face with his hand. _Why the hell would I do that?_ he growled angrily in confusion as he knocked his fist into his glabella.

As he headed over to the hot tub that was next to the bathroom, he had stuck 4 bits of something into his drink that used to be in his bag. He heard Catrine yell for him. 

He placed the wine glass and two bottles on the tub’s little table that peered over the water, he drank the drink he had like a shot and ran to open the door anxiously. “What happened? Are you okay?” he asked quickly in a slight panic. He had thought she had stepped on broken glass or slipped.

“There’s a sauna!” she exclaimed, pointing to a wooden door with a glass that peaked inside of it.

He sighed in relief as he turned to her, she had taken off her little hoodie and pants, revealing her half-naked excellence to Holt, his face blushing purple, becoming erect with his thoughts. “Wow…” Catrine blushed, her tail showing that she was as happy as can be. He began to place his hands on her tiny waist, his breathing becoming heavier as he moved closer.

His body felt tight, yet his mind was extremely lax. “You are beautiful, and I’m sure everybody has told you you’re a gem.” 

“I’m _your_ gem,” she corrected him, lifting up his shirt, by holding it up to his chest. He helped her by pulling it off, and he threw it to his side. Holt’s face felt extremely hot. Catrine’s hands touching his chest, caressing her thumb against him

“So, tell me, which sport were you trying out for?” 

“Track, and I’m running... long-distance.” The words were only halfway mumbled. Catrine’s claws were crawling up the expanse of his chest. Holt couldn’t focus.

In a split second, there was a snip sound, and her bra was now loose, revealing some of her cleavage. She held it to keep it from falling, “I don’t know…” 

“Oh, well... I’ll wait in the tub.” He winked.

He walked and closed the door behind him.” Why is this damn girl so innocent?” he grunted. He poured himself another glass and went to put another thing in it before pulling off the rest of his garments and began to sit in the tub. It was shaped like a heart, and the loveseats formed around it.

On the side, there were buttons that said ‘press for bubbles’, ‘press for Jacuzzi’, and ‘press for reset’. He decided to press the bubbles, assuming that Catrine would still be insecure about being naked. The bubbles filled the clear water.

Just then, the door opened to reveal the beautiful werecat, now covering herself to the best of her abilities. Holt was definitely ready now, but kept in mind that Catrine may not be. “Bubbles? That wasn't there before.”

“Oh, I pressed a button. You’re welcome.” He said with a smile on his face, 

“Thanks.” She giggled as she stepped in. They talked about random things and laughed at others, until Catrine stopped facing him to move closer.

Their conversations were no longer cute and bubbly, but hot and steamy. Holt started to kiss at her neck to her cheek as he whispered sweet nothings, humbly placing his hand below her chin, while Catrine bit her lip, flirting back, placing her leg on top of his. They began touching lips again, and it was as good as Holt remembered.

He removed his hand off her chin to pick her up and place her on top of him. Catrine grabbed his face as she gasped, looking down. He had revealed her breasts, and they were now touching his chest, he breathed out heavily, letting out a quick deep groan. He moved his hands up from her rear to her back, pushing her closer. He did not care if his testicles touched her anymore, he was as hard as a rock, and felt as if he needed it.

He poured himself another glass and stuck, what appeared to Catrine to be flavoring mints, in the glass, again, drinking it like a shot.

Catrine had been in the middle of pressing her body to Holt’s when the sound of nervous laughing, silence when Holt looked up, cut through the air. Holt held Catrine by the neck as if to keep her from spinning around, and Catrine had absolutely no qualms.

“What the hell?”

“Sorry, sorry. We’ll find another.”

It was Clawd and Draculaura. The door shut closed, and Holt did not yet stop pressing his thumb against her throat.

Catrine wondered how such a brutish hand could fit so snugly against her trachea and yet still leave her completely trusting of him. “Who was that?” 

“Clawd and Draculaura. They were looking for a room.” Holt would have usually been upset by a violation of privacy . . . but Catrine’s gentle breaths were pushed hard against his palm, and her eyes were swimming, and the air was unbelievably hot, _and my ghoul, she is so hot in purple LED._ “You. . .” he attempted, trying to alleviate the pressure in his loins, “said you’ve never had sex before?”

Catrine’s throat bobbed in a swallow. “I did.”

Holt got the idea that if he kept his hand there forever, he’d never want to let go, and so he took the opportunity to lean back into her, one hand on the nape of her neck and the other on her back. "You know, I was getting a real feel for the scenery outside. But this is nice, too.” Catrine groaned, pulling up to give Holt a warm, unrestricted kiss. Their teeth grazed for a second, and Holt had to let the thought pass: _Damn, it’s been a while._ They pulled away with a very audible click. Somehow, by the time they opened their eyes, Catrine’s bun was now undone in a silky arrangement of lavender curls. Holt’s eyes warmed Catrine’s belly like fresh bread.

“Yes,” said Catrine, though Holt had not said anything.

A wolfish grin graced his features. His eagerness was thinly veiled; it was obvious in how his hands shook and how heavily he breathed. 

In the meantime, he went ahead and poured another glass for himself, adding his secret ingredient, and drank. 

Feeling heady, he pressed his exposed chest to hers and gave her a kiss towards her jawline. A short one, at first, testing the waters, then another, and another, open-mouthed and biting that time. They only went downwards from there, to her neck, and then her collarbone, her breasts and the cavity between them. 

Catrine’s breaths were frantic and she pressed her legs tight to subdue her own emotions. She guided his fingertips to her pert nipples. “Holt. . .” she said, though her eyes were shut and her mouth was open by the slightest degrees. He accepted the gesture, groping her breasts with little reverence. 

"Hmm. . .” he hummed, apparently agreeing, the noise coming from deep inside his throat. He didn't elaborate. The stretching of her legs did not go unnoticed by him either.

Distantly, he wondered if this room had always been so balmy and the water so frustratingly hot. His kisses reached her abdomen, then her belly, and as if claiming some sort of due, he lifted her to the edge of the tub, reaching her vulva with a famished kiss. It all suddenly became wet and formless, and eventually they stopped being kisses altogether. 

Catrine squirmed and covered her mouth to stop a scream from bubbling out. Holt took a hand away to wrench her hand in his and then against her scalp, forcing her sounds into the room. He wanted all of New Salem to know she was his. Catrine obliged and moaned her throat raw, thighs pressing in on Holt’s face at every angle.

 _I love her,_ came the thought, quick and warm, and fleeting, and maybe frighteningly.

“I just started,” he mumbled against her lips, the vibrations making the werecat give a full-body twitch, “and you’re already gonna cum all over my face, huh?” She tasted so good — sageish with a sweet smell. His tongue ran over her clit until his face was damp and Catrine was wet in every crevice of her heat. At some point they had left the tub and Holt had lifted her by the thighs to a nearby mattress and dropped her with a thud. He was up to the tip of his nose in her — the bed gave him more leverage. Catrine was quick to adapt, tossing her legs over his shoulders.

Perhaps it was her moaning that made him hurry. He wasn't sure, to be honest. But hearing that sound come from her, and caused by him, felt like tiny pebbles had tangled in the invisible gears of his mind, forcefully stopping their movement. His ears were drinking up the noise like it was cold water on a hot day.

Holt seemed to slowly lose care of his surroundings, and with less and less gentleness, he continued. He wanted her to come, and he wanted to taste every inch of her; he figured out which parts elicited the strongest reactions and made sure to pass over the sensitive bud very often.

Catrine’s chest rose in a brave heave, and her words were stitched together with breaths — “I’m. . .” She couldn’t finish her sentence, but Holt understood. She spasmed, arching her back with that heavenly flash of white coursing through her muscles. And then she was crying out in a caterwaul, and then she came, and then there was breathing, and low moans, and then nothing at all. Every muscle in her body melted like butter. Her lungs were worn and she was ready to sleep. Her arm slung around Holt’s body in a sleepy, thankful embrace.

Catrine had relaxed so fully that she had not seen Holt wring himself from her, hand coming up to her, socking her square in the face with a violent crack. Catrine’s eyes flew open and she screamed again. He was hitting her. 

“Holt!” she said, but he didn’t stop. He hit her again. A third time, too. Her mandible cracked. “What are you doing?”

“Be a good girl and sit up,” he said. “You’re gonna keep going.” He growled, his hand was raised in a threat.

There was a fire in Holt’s eyes that was inexplicable. Catrine’s hands flew to protect her naked body. Perhaps it was that moment of vulnerability and fear, but Holt took one look at the trembling hands splayed across her delicate little face and let his hand freeze in the air, eyebrows knitting together as if this reaction to hitting her were somehow confusing to him. It took him a moment, and his eyes certainly searched her for what felt like years before he let it drop. His hands were bruised. Catrine did not feel like looking into a mirror.

When they cleaned up, the hardness in Holt’s groin had not yet gone away, and Catrine couldn’t help but notice just how he had worshipped her body like a temple and not demanded a single thing for himself. Unless, perhaps, it was not so much respect he had wanted out of her more than a fuck. Had she ruined it? Her cheekbone throbbed and Holt was quickly retreating away from her, blood covering his knuckles. _Her_ blood. Was that possible? Catrine’s face felt numb. Perhaps she was imagining it.

And after it all, Catrine _still_ laid curled against Holt’s drumming body, warm water spinning around their raw skin, spent. And with a gross wrench of her stomach, she couldn’t help but love him, too.


	20. Drunk

**Two** hours had passed, and they were as buzzed as an Irish after Christmas. Catrine could not stop laughing, her face as pink as a cherry blossom, her eye was punctured, but she did not feel a thing. Holt was rambling out some nonsensical jokes.

They were both dressed in loose, silky golden robes, stumbling out of their room, Holt giving her a piggyback ride, as she messed with his wet hair, her legs still shaking from her and Holt’s activities just earlier. Holt called for Frankie as he let Catrine down. She decided to get water, as tipsy as she was. Holt had run off to find the ghoul in stitches. 

Cleo and Deuce were in the kitchen when they saw her walk in. She quickly zipped up Deuces pants and tried to yank her shirt back on. “H-hey, Catrine!”

“Bone-jour, friend. I need... water! Water… Can you get me some water?” It hardly sounded like a question. Her tone was so plain.

Deuce glanced at her bruised eye. It was certainly suspicious. He also noticed her speech, words clearly slurred; he could tell she was drunk. Maybe the two were related. Catrine was just clumsy, right?

“Uh, yeah. Let me get that for you. Just sit down on that couch over there.” Catrine walked to the couch. Her legs felt tight. 

“What happened to your eye, Catrine?” Cleo asked as Deuce poured water into a glass. Catrine gave a great roll of her head just to look at her.

“Holt told me… to be a… a good girl! . . . such a… bombasse!” She moaned. Cleo looked at Deuce.

They both had the same look on their face.


	21. The Voice

**“Frankie…** Frankie...” 

He stumbled through the endless hallway, trying to warn her of something he didn’t know, finding no one but the faces of haunted doors telling him he would never find her. The doors were grinning and laughed as he stumbled through endless hallways. His hands dug into his scalp, wrought.

“Stop it! Stop it!” 

The doors began to morph into grotesque pictures of wood and teeth. “Frankie! Frankie!” they mocked.

“Shut up!” he shouted. “Shut up!” He pressed his hands to his ears, but he couldn’t reach them, there was something in the way. “No!” 

“You’ll never see her. She hates you. You’re only embarrassing yourself. Go home.” 

“Get away from me!” He screamed as the ceiling began to bend. He was trapped. The voices would never go away. “Get away from me! Leave me alone!” 

The walls were cruel. “No one loves you. They only say they do because of who they think you are! Your fame! Your power!”

“My… power…” he echoed. He couldn’t stop shaking. He was now bent over on the floor, crying, his golden robe draped over him. 

“Without your power, you’d have no one. Without your power, you’d be dead. They fear you, Holt.” Leneus stood in front of him, shaking his head as if to say he was disappointed, “He’s only there to make money off of you, he never really loved you.” 

“It’s not true! It’s not!” 

“You hurt her, Holt. You’re disgusting. She doesn’t want you anymore.” Catrine — no, _multiple_ Catrines — formed at every wall, cuts and bruises littering her pale fur. She looked so afraid.

His eyes widened as he tried to look away, but every time he turned his head, the image would follow. “No.” His voice was hoarse.

“You got her drunk, Holt.” 

“No!” 

“You hurt her.” The doors began to sing. “It’s all your fault! It’s your fault! Everything is your fault!” He fell down to the cold floor as the doors’ voices rang in his ear, his hot tears spilling onto the black marble, covering everything with his tears, like a stream. “You can show them how badly they made you suffer, Holt. All the years of running and hiding, you can get them back. All it takes is a man who can kill.” 

There was a flash, then darkness. Holt was falling.

“And that man was you,” spoke the void. “Show them the real you, Show that you are Mister Hyde.” 

Holt hit the ground, and his mind went black.


	22. Perdu

**Frankie’s** scream filled the entire house, the ghouls and growls that heard gathered to see what had happened. 

She had her chest pressed against a bed-ridden Holt. He was bleeding, but if Frankie cared at all about the blood staining her clothes, it didn’t show. “I was there!” she explained, blubbering. “He — hic! — was screaming, and yelling, and crying. And his heart keeps stopping!” Her mint cheeks were stained with tears. “He was looking for me.” She touched her forehead to his. “He was looking for  _ me! _ ” 

Across the room was Clawd. Catrine was passed out at a bed beside him. “Franks, calm down,” he said, frowning. “It wasn’t you. It was all that alcohol. She’s passed out, too.”

“Don’t wake her up, we don’t want the situation to get worse.” Cleo said. A murmur of agreement fell upon the room, and the mummy fiddled with the golden rings on her fingers. She leaned into her boofriend’s ear. “Deuce, come with me. We’ll go investigate the room.”

“Alright.” Nobody turned to say goodbye as they left. They were focused on Holt.

As they walked toward the room, Deuce began to rub at his neck. “Hey, you think this is the first time she drank heavily?” 

Cleo shrugged. 

“Do you think this is the first time Holt has drunk this heavily?” 

Cleo’s walking stuttered, and she had to stop to regain the rhythm. She snorted. “Now  _ that _ is a good question.”

They opened the door and began searching the room Holt and Catrine had been in moments earlier. Bottles, some broken and some whole, were thrown across the room and the carpet was just about pulled up. The bed had so clearly been used. Deuce kicked around an empty Jack Daniel’s, but Cleo was more focused. She B-lined to Holt’s bag, unzipping it and gasping almost immediately. There were several empty pill bottles. Deuce peered over her shoulder to see what was wrong. He paled.

“Do you think he…?”

“Overdosed?” Deuce’s face was set as stone. “It would be a Holt thing to do, unfortunately…” Cleo reared up and put her face to Deuce’s chest. Deuce patted her head while he watched. Her three friends were already on speed dial.

Abbey, Clawdeen, and Ghoulia arrived on the scene within minutes, meeting with Frankie and Clawd in the main room. “We need to call someone. Fur real. An ambulance, or something,” Clawdeen said as Ghoulia checked his pulse. “When Holt gets drunk, it’s not this bad. He might have taken something.” 

“We can’t.” Clawd told his sister. “You think he wants this in the press? Holt will die if the world finds out about  _ this _ . Ghoulia can take care of him for now.”

“Holt will die if we don’t call anyone, either,” snapped Clawdeen. Clawd did not reply.

Frankie was still stressing to extreme levels over him. Abbey had joined the zombie as soon as she heard the distress call from Cleo. Her role as therapist was greatly improvised. “There, there, Frankie. Holt will be fine. I am sure he deals with this everyday,” she said.

Frankie’s face contorted. “I hope.”

Draculaura’s phone rang. “It’s Cleo! Hey ghoul, what’s going…” She paused. “Slow down! . . . Wait, what? No, that’s not good at all! You don’t think that, do you? . . . Me neither! . . .Okay, see you in a bit. Bye-bye.”

Everyone’s eyes were on Draculaura. 

“So?”

Draculaura gulped. “Guys… Holt overdosed on antidepressants.”


	23. Recovery

“Okay, maybe it worse than I thought. Say your goodbyes!” Abbey’s expression was drab.

“Abbey, now’s really not the time.” Frankie said, her eyes redder than ever, tears still rushing down as she brushed his hair with her hands. 

Ghoulia moaned. She had been the slowest one of all, but in the end, she had made it. She had cleaned Holt’s major wounds and had moved to his brachial. “He has a slight pulse.” All the ghouls gathered around him, Frankie especially.

“He’s still breathing!” Frankie clutched at her button-down. Holt had been breathing and stopping almost the entire time. He was fighting. 

“We’re still gonna have to call someone,” Clawdeen whispered as Cleo and Deuce arrived. 

Cleo’s eyes lit up. “Ghoulia, thank Ra you’re here! You’re a lifesaver.”

Ghoulia blinked appreciatively, but did not reply to her. “Clawd, carry him to a bed, please.” Clawd was quick to lift him up, looking as if he thought this to be the last time he would see him. His head was hung over his arm, his body was motionless. Vulnerability was a word no one thought Holt could own, even when he was arrested by the normies, but yet there he was, unconscious for the first time in decades over the hands of a friend.  _ Vulnerable _ was the best word they could use.

Clawd tried hard not to cry. To Clawd, everyone else thought the situation would be solved, while he felt as though this night was the last night he’d ever see Holt, and possibly even Jackson. And why shouldn’t he? Holt had survived so much, but not  _ this _ . He could’ve stopped it this time. Clawd’s hands shook.

Once he was carefully placed on the bed next to Catrine, Ghoulia lifted his head to put a pillow under his neck and began doing CPR, holding his nose and began slowly breathing into his mouth two times every second. She carefully removed his robe, using the bed’s blankets to cover his groin.

Catrine was knocked out cold, and Clawdeen went to check on her. She placed her hand on her forehead and watched as Holt’s chest moved up and down. Frankie continued to cry. After all, it is terrifying to watch your once lover dying right in front of you, but it relieved her so much that he was responding.

“He has big scar on stomach, like yak wound on yeti,” Abbey pointed out.

“That’s a pretty big scratch, Ghoulia. You know what may have caused that?” Clawd asked, peering over the curved pink gash on the right side of Holt’s abdomen. 

Ghoulia gave it a quick glance. “Catrine might know,” the blue-haired zombie answered. She grabbed a naloxone spray from her purse, and sprayed it up his nose. 

Ghoulia had a lot of medical supplies she carried in her purse; no one asked why she’d have them. It was just her fang to carry stuff that usually the average zombie wouldn’t be caught alive holding. 

She stood up, “Let’s give him space. He should start breathing normally again,” she moaned. 

“I do not speak zombie. Somebody explain?” Abbey requested. Frankie translated for her and explained what she had been saying. Abbey looked thoughtful.

“How much do you think he took?” Clawd asked curiously. 

Ghoulia blinked. “Give me the bottle.” Deuce passed the bottle to her. The zombie pushed her glasses up and slowly read the label. “It says it's a prescription. They’re small pills, so that explains why there were forty pills in here. He got a few of these bottles quite a while ago, the latest of which being four days ago. It appears there are none left, so I have to assume he either took them as planned and kept the bottles, or took them all. These are the types of medications you’re supposed to take two a day — one in the morning and one at night. Even if he took them as planned and took them all tonight, it still means he took at least fourty-three pills.”

Gasps escaped the congregation. Draculaura hid her face in Clawd’s Jacket, Deuce wrapped his arm around Cleo, and Frankie buried her face in her hands and cried while Abbey patted her back, having little idea what was being said. Clawdeen walked over to whisper to Abbey, knowing she was confused.

“Oh, well that is no good.” She said in an anticlimactic tone. Still, her eyes were sad.

Just so, heavy breathing began spluttering from the bed. It was Holt. They all stood up to go see him but Ghoulia stopped them. “What, are you nuts? He’s just waking up from possible death. Life isn’t a movie. He still needs time!” She walked over to add more nasal spray. 

“Huh?” said Abbey, eliciting an eyeroll from Clawd.

While she did this, Ghoulia noticed Catrine was turning towards Holt’s direction. She opened her eyes slowly. “Holt?” She saw as Ghoulia pulled out her stethoscope to check his heart. “Holt!” She sat up rather quickly, her eyes starting to fill with tears. “Non, non, non! What happened to him?” Ghoulia pressed her finger to her lips. 

“Don’t worry; he’s recovering.” 

Catrine‘s ears pressed against her skull. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you're saying. Is he going to be okay?”

Frankie looked so shaken that it was incredible she wasn’t falling apart at the seams. “She said he’s recovering.” 

Catrine bit her lip. “Merci… Dieu merci...”

They all watched as Holt’s hand slowly rose, weak, but strongly pushing the limits of his movement just to touch Catrine’s hand. His lips parted as if to say something.

“No, don’t speak. Only breathe,” she told him calmly, eyes widening at the gesture. 

“Catrine, did you see him do anything before you both left?” Cleo asked politely 

“I remember very little… but I do remember him and I, um…” Catrine fumbled, then perked. “Yes! I remember he would lean over to put something in his drink every time he poured himself another glass.” Holt’s breathing stuttered again, but with a squeeze from Catrine, it returned to normal.

“I never thought he’d be this bad. I’ve seen him in this kind of situation before. Yesterday he showed up to my house with a huge stab wound on his belly, that jerk! And now, he overdosed on pills I watched him take, and I didn’t do anything about it…” She teared up again, her voice now raspy. 

Ghoulia moaned. “It’s not your fault.” And when Catrine’s eyes widened in confusion, she added: “He’s suicidal.” 

The group stiffened. It had been on their minds, but to speak the words so plainly was something they had all been too afraid to do. Catrine and Abbey still didn’t understand the language of the zombies, but somehow got what she had said. 

Holt stirred in his state of half-awakeness, probably bothered by the vulnerability.

“What happened to you, Holt?” Frankie asked. “You used to be so happy all the time, and always so loud and carefree.” It seemed like some of his strength had returned, because at that, Holt opened his eyes and began attempting to shuffle to a sit. Ghoulia tried to explain that was bad posture for him right now, but his head was so dizzy, he couldn’t pay attention as well. Ghoulia grunted and decided that helping him sit was ultimately better than having him struggle.

“M’happy!” he whispered. His voice was run raw from whiskey. 

Frankie and Catrine cried again, the latter still holding his hand, fingers running along the bends of his knuckles. “Holt, you realize what you’re doing is selfish? You could have died, Holt! Think of all your friends; think of your fans! think of  _ me!  _ People really care about you. How many times do people need to tell you that for you to know?” 

His eyes widened as they overflowed with mass amounts of tears. He refused to let them all see him cry, so he hid his eyes with his fingers, wiping away his tears as best he could, without making it obvious. “I’m a fuckup, I‘uess,” he said, eyes screwed shut.

Ghoulia walked out of the room for a minute. Clawdeen walked to Catrine to comfort her as she sobbed French insults at Holt. Ghoulia arrived with water. 

“Drink.” She moaned. Holt refused, thinking if he could play tough it would be like nothing ever happened. She then pinched his nose to lift his head up and put the glass on his now opened mouth to force feed him. He drank as he rolled his eyes. 

“You’re acting so immature!” Catrine yelled, wanting to punch him and smother him in kisses at once. Clawdeen held her back. “Why are you doing this?” Ghoulia removed the glass from his lips, Holt now staring at Catrine, smirking.

“Calm down, pussy cat, I’m high,” he said, his voice a little clearer, wheezing at his own sick joke. Catrine’s pupils shrunk, and she nearly began to attack Holt by tackling him, while Clawdeen tried as best she could to grab hold of her. Holt felt numb, not feeling any scratches she managed to throw at him. He raised his hands up, and caught both of her fists mid-punch. 

Her face was as wet as a window on a rainy day, her black stained tears running down from her cheeks to her neck. Holt kept his hands attached to hers and began to look at them as everyone watched. Her arms were bruised.


	24. Abuse

“ **Did…** I do this?”

Catrine paused as he glanced up at her eye, not holding back his tears anymore, hugged her, his fingers combed her wavy hair while the other hand was rubbing her back. “I’m sorry, Catrine, this is all my fault… I’m sorry.” He cried.

She embraced him, “It’s not your fault…” “No, Catrine I’m a terrible person… I don’t deserve you!” “What are you talking about?” Catrine asked as he let go and backed away from her. Ghoulia walked up to everyone as she packed up her bag. 

“Let’s give them space.” She moaned as she ushered everyone out, while Frankie took time to look at Holt, and his abs where his scar was.

“I love you, Holt! What don’t you understand about that?” She argued. 

“Catrine, you shouldn’t… I’m a lustful… bad influence, a low life! I-I hit you.”

“But you’ve changed, Holt. You’ve beaten records, you’re nice to almost everyone you meet, you’re nice to me.”

“I beat you!”

“You were on drugs, Holt… Antidepressants for that matter! They can make you insane!”

“But I still chose to beat you, my dad’s a murderer, it runs in the blood, and you know you should be damn scared of that.” He said as he turned to his side to get rest.

Catrine was left speechless, all she had was sleep, and that’s exactly what she did. Holt muttered, “I’m never taking you to a party like this again.”


	25. Awkward Reunion

It was a very silent morning as everyone gathered in the kitchen, Cleo feeling refreshed after peeling off her third facemask of the day. 

Holt sat at the island where everyone else was, leaning his head against his hand. 

“Who wants eggs and bacon?” 

They all nodded. Holt, clearly not enjoying his surroundings, did not respond.

“He’ll take some!” Catrine answered for him. “Okay!” She responded as she brought out the pans while Deuce took out the raw food. “If it helps you feel better Holt, I’ll drive us home.” He slowly looked up at her, still not saying a word and went back to staring at the counter.

She rolled her eyes and pouted as she looked the other direction. “Catrine, I know you’re just trying to help, but Holt had a long night, I mean… he almost died… I think we should just let him think.” Frankie whispered as she brought her over to sit with the ghouls, her face, along with the ghouls held the expression of fear, their eyes all widened as they all looked at eachother, trying to catch small glimpses of Holt to see if he may have stood up.

“How’s your head? Do you need some Aahdvil?” Clawdeen asked to get rid of the tension as the girls agreed and looked at her. “Sure, I’ll take some, my head is aching pretty bad…” 

“don’t worry we got you covered, mate! Have some water.” Lagoona whispered as she handed her a bootle out of her bag, she seemed to carry a lot of those everywhere.

As Ghoulia grabbed some out of her bag, Draculaura made small talk. “So, how was last night? Besides the whole… dying thing… Was it your first time? Was it good?” “Ehm-” She was taken aback how open Draculaura was, “Draculaura!” Clawdeen said, giving her a bag of ice to put on her eye. “Okay, okay, sorry, that was a little much,” she said, “so...” Draculaura added in a cooey voice, “I see Holt has given you his mark.” She said, trying not to let her excitement out.

Frankie grasped at her neck and frowned as the other ghouls continued to talk. “I am sorry? What mark?” Catrine asked. “The one on your neck!” Clawdeen answered, handing her a small mirror.

A hickey with a scratch shaped like an H was on the left side of her neck. “Oh my, I did not notice- oh… wow.” she struggled to find any words, thinking back to when they were in her kitchen. 

“Yeah ghoul! It’s this Fang he does to show his dominance, no growl can flirt with you as long as you have it.” Lagoona said, “It’s a little weird, yeah, but it looks cool dun it?” Catrine was shocked she was just receiving this news. 

“Uh, guys? Can we… talk about something else?” Frankie asked, still holding her neck. Holt heard all of what they were talking about, but his brain felt too fuzzy to fully concentrate on what they were saying.

Clawd walked up to Holt as Gil tagged along only to whisper “this isn’t a good idea” multiple times, Clawd now patting Holt’s back. “Hey bro, you good?” he asked. 

“What do you fuckin think, dog?” Holt spoke, making Clawd jump, he didn’t expect him to say anything since he hadn’t been talking since they gathered. “Oh, well that was nice.”

“You’re only fuckin’ sayin’ that to defend your stupid ass riputation of being the so called ‘purrfect guy’, but I know what you did last year, so don’t even get on my ass with that bullshit.” “What are you talking about?”

“Holt, stop it. You’re not making sense.” Catrine added, as she finished swallowing the pills, Frankie trying to calm her down, the ghouls now scared again, Deuce was now hiding Cleo even though she most definitely wanted to see what was going to go down.

“I’m talking about that fuckin’ sex tape you told me to film for you and your slut over there, and you told me you’d pay good money, yet you never fuckin did, now, did you?” He raised his voice as Clawd looked at Draculaura.

Holt felt as if his vain would pop, Draculaura blushed, now looking away, starting to tear up, whispering to herself, “Clawd don’t do anything stupid…” while Cleo looking intrigued. 

“Alright Holt, that’s enough, you don’t call my girl a slut, and this is getting  _ way _ too personal...” “Oh, go tell your mom about it, won’t you? At Least she’s still around to hear all that bullshit!” He stood up, Clawd pushed him back, but all it really did was piss Holt off more. The ghouls were now hiding their eyes, Catrine, Frankie, and Cleo were still watching.

“Holt listen, I know you’ve been feeling extremely exposed this week, I’ve seen it all. But you can’t just take it out on us-” Clawd said, hoping it would calm him down as everyone watched.

Holt looked at everyone in shock. _ They’re scared of me… _ he sat back down, and sighed, placing his face back on his hand.

“Why didn’t you let me just die,” 

“What?” 

“I’m an asshole, waste of time. You could’ve let me slip away, and your problems would’ve been solved.”

“Holt! Don’t start this shit again! We care about you, and you know I would never do that! How many times do we have to keep fucking telling you!” Clawd snapped. Holt stood back up to face him, everyone flinched. He blushed, his whole body felt a rush of cold, his face stayed hot, he felt humiliated.

“I’m leaving.” Holt pushed Clawd out of the way, but patted him on the shoulder, leaving him speechless. Catrine started to freak out as Holt exited the room, slamming the door, almost causing it to crumble. 

“Thank ghoul!” Gil hyperventilated, “why are we even still friends with that… MONSTER?” “That’s enough, Gil.” Clawd spoke in a rough voice. 

“Well that was a scene,” Lagoona sighed in relief. “That was amazing!” Cleo said, fighting Deuce so she could be seen again. Frankie glared at her as she tried to calm Catrine down.

“It’s okay, he gets like this when he’s hungover.” Frankie said as she cried, “he’ll be back, he always comes back.”


End file.
